Family Reunion
by Mistress Scribbles
Summary: Part 12 of the New Adventures. 6 months after the Gang split, things have only got more desperate. Can they find their old friends again before it's too late? Eric's father hopes so, so he can finally rest in peace. Adult language & situations.
1. Chapter 1

FAMILY REUNION

-x-

One

-x-

He wandered, following the call. Either the other people couldn't see him or they didn't want to be able to see him sufficiently for their eyes to glaze over and gaze straight through him. He spent a while in his home, treading lightly through the dust, stepping over messy tendrils in the garden, taking in the decay. He sighed.

'Jesus.'

The call wasn't centred there, though, so he left. He walked slowly along to the freeway, heading towards the distant shore. The call became louder, more desperate. He shook his head. He knew now where it was he had to go. It had been a long time now since that place had tried to take his only child from him. It had taken him a very long time to get over that. Perhaps he never truly had.

Still.

He was needed. He was being called. He had to go. After all had been said and done… he had to do it. He had to Be There, even if was to only be this one time… Lay things to rest. After all, wasn't that what being dead was supposed to be all about?

He squared his shoulders and continued the long trek towards the Amusement Park.

-x-

The tent was quiet and dark. Hank was surprised at how cool it was. He'd spent the last couple of weeks burning up, now he needed a blanket to keep warm. He was ravenously hungry. He took this as a good sign. His face was itching. He wasn't sure whether this was good or not. He waited in the gloom, wondering whether he dare scratch it. Tentatively, he raised his hand up to the bandage that covered most of the left side of his face.

'Don't touch the wound,' ordered a kindly yet firm female voice from behind him. 'That's how it got infected in the first place.'

The elderly woman who had been his nurse since he'd fallen sick sat cross-legged next to his bedroll with a friendly smile. 'You never did tell me which shaky handed charlatan it was who did such a terrible job of stitching you up the first time…'

She offered Hank a bowl of stew. He accepted it gratefully, ramming several oversized spoonfuls of the food into his mouth in fast succession.

Zule watched his expression. 'You did it yourself,' she announced, 'didn't you.'

Hank shot Zule a momentary glance of sheepish confirmation before going back to his food. The old woman sat back. 'I knew it. You should have let me see to it months ago, but no.'

'Thought it was fine,' Hank mumbled through the food, 'didn't want to put you to the trouble.'

'And so you let it go septic.' Zule shook her head. 'Well. It was touch and go for a while, but you seem to be on the mend now.'

'Could…' Hank swallowed, nervously, brushing his fingers over the bandage. 'Could I still lose my eye?'

Zule pressed her lips tightly together and met Hank's gaze, seriously. 'No, dearie. I'm afraid that's already lost.'

Hank took in a deep breath. 'It's gone?'

'It's been gone for a long time, Hank. It was blinded when you injured yourself. It was useless.'

Hank set the bowl down on the floor of the tent and dreamily ran his fingers over his left eye socket through the bandage. 'It could'a got better…'

'No. It couldn't. It was very infected. It was making you sick. I'm sorry, Hank. I had to remove it.'

'I'm a Ranger,' sighed Hank, despondently. 'An archer, a tracker… how am I supposed to do any of those things with only one eye?'

Zule shrugged with a forced cheer. 'Ever since you joined our little band you've only had one working eye. And you seem to have managed just fine.'

'It's not the same,' sighed Hank.

Zule drew breath to reply, but thought better of it. 'Eat up,' she told him, 'you'll need your strength.'

She got up and walked out of the tent, pulling the flap that formed a rudimentary door shut again behind her. Hank ate the rest of his meal in silence. So that was it. The eye was gone for good. The latest in a long, long catalogue of dear prices that his stupidity had cost him. He tried his best not to think of that night that he had come so close to destroying everything, or the slow erosion of his soul that had led to that horrific event, but the memories plagued him like those of an alcoholic recalling snatches of inebriated misdemeanours from the night before. He had lost his friends, he had lost Sheila… he had come so close to losing his self, the very essence that made him Him. And it had been nobody but Venger who had turned him around, saved him from himself, and that was the worst to contemplate of all. That fact made Hank simply want to crawl under a dark, flat rock somewhere and die.

Even though he'd promised Diana he would find help for his old Gang that night he'd walked away from them, his main intention had been to wander alone. He hadn't counted on stumbling across the small group of refugees when he had. Even less had he considered that the four strangers he had encountered would prove to be more helpful to him than he was to them. He crawled out of the low tent with his empty bowl and got stiffly to his feet, wincing at the daylight.

'Well,' called Raeed from the campfire, 'look who is finally up.'

Hank managed a small smile in Raeed's general direction. Hank had worried on joining the group that he might have faced some aggression from the only other man in the party. His fears, it had transpired, had been completely unfounded. Raeed was a warm and genial man, and even though he seemed to have no more sexual interest in any of the group's three women than Hank did, there was never any dispute over who was the Alpha Male. Hank always, always deferred to the older man. It seemed to come naturally to him, despite his being Leader for so long and his battles for the upper hand with Eric back in the old group. It just felt as though Raeed was simply born to lead, and Hank was happy to follow for once. Of the three women there was old Zule, Vanti – a strange, frail, quiet young woman who seemed to Hank to be even more an outsider than he was, and Ashi – Raeed's little sister… or was she his niece? The story of their relationship never matched from one day to the next.

'Are you still hungry?' Ashi asked him with a small smile, 'there is a little stew left over…'

'Only if you guys are all full…' Hank began.

'This boy,' giggled Zule, 'he spends two weeks flat on his back and then he demands extra portions! What are we to do with…'

Zule halted, suddenly, like a startled animal. Her nervousness spread fast around the group, and they all got to their feet, holding their collective breath. Hank pulled Big Sally over his shoulder silently and loaded it, straining to hear an unusual sound in the nearby trees.

They waited.

And waited.

Several minutes passed, and all remained still.

'Maybe,' suggested Vanti, quietly, 'it's a false alar…'

There was an almighty din from the shallow river that ran past their encampment. The five members of the band turned from their study of the trees in time to see over a dozen well armoured Orcs springing up from beneath the water.

Zule took a couple of nervous steps back. 'They're hiding underwater,' she scowled. 'They are getting smarter.'

'You know what to do,' growled Raeed, unsheathing his sword.

Hank released a crossbow bolt, hitting an approaching Orc in the shoulder. He swore, reloaded and hit the injured Orc in the throat.

'I'm gonna run out of arrows at this rate…' he muttered.

Ashi darted towards Hank. 'Give me your sword.'

'No, Ashi!' Raeed demanded. 'You do as I told you. You take the other women and you hide.'

'…and leave you to face all of those Orcs with only an invalid to help you?'

Hank fired another crossbow bolt at the Orcs, and missed again.

'Ashi…' warned Raeed.

'I am a better swordsman than Hank,' Ashi argued, 'I practice all the time. Why won't you let me…'

'My decision has been made!' Bellowed Raeed. 'My order has been given! Go now, before it's too late…'

But it _was_ too late. The first few Orcs had already climbed the riverbank, and began to sprint the short distance towards the encampment. Hank was able to hit one, but the others were practically upon them. Before Hank could stop her, Ashi grabbed the sword that he had taken from Eric six months previously and swung it behind herself with the same flourish that Raeed used with his own weapon.

'No!' Raeed leapt in front of the girl before the Orcs could reach her, cutting two down with a double swing of his sword. He was not fast enough for the third. It blocked his sword's blow, pushing him off his balance. Hank reloaded and fired. The crossbow bolt hit the Orc in the small of the neck, sending it stumbling to the ground, but already two more of the brutes were right behind it. Raeed lunged again, but a particularly large foe grabbed his sword bearing hand, twisted it up to its snout and bit it. Raeed cried out, dropping his sword and with an outraged scream, Ashi darted towards the two new Orcs, paying no apparent heed to the fact that each of them dwarfed the young woman. Hank shakily tried to aim his crossbow at the Orcs surrounding Raeed and Ashi, but was alerted by another cry. He turned his head and saw three more Orcs fast approaching the two weaponless women. He shifted Big Sally to face the Orcs approaching Vanti and Zule, but as he did he was halted by a big, rough palm closing tight around his throat. Helplessly, he was pulled backwards into the large, heavily armoured torso of the Orc that had grabbed him. He could feel its snout breathing hot, meaty breaths against the remains of his face.

'Ullo,' grunted the Orc.

There was a whistle, and a dull "thunk".

The grasp around Hank's neck slackened, suddenly. The body fell away from his back. Hank had no chance to turn to see what had happened to his captor when another Orc fell, mysteriously. And another. And another.

They were being shot. They were being shot with a crossbow. And it _wasn't his_!

'Nym?' He turned to scan the other side of the river. 'Janapurna?'

It was a woman all right, if not either of those he had named – a solitary woman, on horseback on the opposite riverbank, covered in grey armour, her crossbow raised. There was, Hank pondered as he took three goes in fast succession to pick off another approaching Orc, something familiar about her.

Two more well aimed shots from the mysterious rider and a skilful swing of Ashi's sword brought down enough of the attacking Orcs for the remaining handful to turn tail. Hank lowered Big Sally and watched as the armour clad stranger picked off each and every one of the fleeing Orcs with her crossbow.

From his crouched position on the ground, nursing his hand, Raeed lifted his head towards the woman. 'They have given up!' he cried. 'You don't have to shoot them!'

'Yes I do,' called the woman. 'If I didn't, how would I be sure they were all dead?' She aimed and fired at the last Orc, and it fell into the river with a squeal.

Raeed got to his feet, irritably pushing away Ashi's helping hand. 'They were no longer a threat to us. To shoot them like that makes one no better than they are.'

The woman strapped her crossbow back onto her back. 'There are worse things.' She turned her horse away from them. 'You're welcome, by the way.'

'Wait!' Zule had stepped forward, and continued to approach the riverbank as she spoke. 'You are alone, aren't you?'

The woman stalled. 'Not entirely.'

'You saved our lives,' Zule reminded her. 'Why?'

'I attacked the Orcs because I could see you were in trouble,' replied the woman, 'not to mention that I hate the bastards.'

'You don't wish for any recompense?' Ashi asked. 'We have some hot food if you're hungry.'

Hank frowned, squinting at the woman on the other side of the river. She was middle aged, with frizzy red hair tied back in a ponytail and a sad expression. In a flash, he realised why she was so familiar. They had met before, briefly, when they had first re entered the Realm… it must have been around 9 months before. It was Lilac, the woman that Bobby had… that Bobby had…

Ah, crap.

'You are pregnant,' announced Zule, casting a critical eye over Lilac. She did indeed have a torso far fatter than usual for such a slender face and limbs. Her armour curved out massively to incorporate a swollen belly and breasts.

Lilac curled her lips slightly. 'Not so.'

Zule furrowed her brow in confusion. Lilac kicked her mount gently and guided the horse across the shallow river. The closer she got the more her rounded breastplate shone, like the side of a highly polished cauldron.

'I can see how you could be fooled,' Lilac told Zule as she crossed. 'I had this armour made to protect the baby once I found out I was pregnant…'

'But you still wear it,' noted Ashi.

'Yes.' Her horse clopped onto their side of the river, and she carefully dismounted with a slight wince. 'That hot food would be nice, by the way,' she added.

'What happened to the baby?' Breathed Raeed.

Lilac smiled again and unclasped her bulging armour. Although she was indeed not pregnant, it still fit her snugly, since around her belly was a tight cloth sling. With one hand cradling it, she unravelled it with the other until the sling came gently away from her. She carefully held the softly stirring bundle and uncovered the baby's head.

Hank, already lost for words, found his very breath halting in the back of his throat. The baby sleepily opened its eyes and gazed straight at him. He realised that his hands were trembling against his open mouth.

The baby. The baby.

The baby looked _exactly_ like Sheila.

-x-

There was a shack (or was it a hovel?) – a nondescript hovel (or was it a shack?) in the middle of a small street of hovelshacks in the rundown neighbourhood on the outskirts of an unimportant Market Town – one of a thousand similar dreary, ambling little towns of its kind in the Realm. Like many homes in the town, this one had a small stable, little more than a shed, in the small garden at the back. Again like so many gardens in the area, the residents had dug up what little grass there was and used the soil to begin growing a small vegetable patch, helped along by nitrates supplied by the outside Privy. The shackhovel itself comprised of one room downstairs, with a single stove that was rarely lit, and a ladder leading up to two small bedrooms. Four young adults lived in the house together – two men and two women. This was far from unusual, since people in that neighbourhood were often too poor to afford houses to themselves. They seemed to keep a horse, although it was never taken out of its stable. This was a little more odd, although most of the people who lived nearby just assumed that the beast was lame. Every now and again the house would be deserted for several days but again, this was far from unusual. Many young people took temporary manual labour jobs for local farms that would take them away from home for a week or so. Yes, there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about this particular shack (hovel) or its inhabitants. They blended perfectly in with their surroundings. They disappeared.

So when the door of the hovel (shack) was opened by an invisible hand and an invisible person stepped inside, Eric wasn't exactly surprised.

He turned back to his game. 'Tell me you weren't cloaked the whole way.'

'Don't worry, Eric. Nobody saw me.' Sheila removed her hood and shifted into view. 'I mean, that's kinda the point of this thing.'

'It's still dangerous,' Uni added. 'Just because you can't be seen doesn't mean…'

'…Doesn't mean I can't be noticed,' Sheila aped. 'I know. I know.' She cricked her neck. 'I just had to get out. Don't you guys feel sometimes like the walls in this place are closing in on you? Like everybody's watching us?'

Uni "Hmmph"ed. 'Think you've got it hard? Try blending in when you're a talking Unicorn.' She delicately picked up one of the roughly carved white Bishops with her teeth, moving it to knock over a similarly lopsided black Rook.

'Son of a bitch!' Eric threw up his hands in frustration. 'How can I be losing at chess to a quadraped? You didn't even know what a Pawn was a couple of months ago!'

Uni gave a small, smug smile. 'It's not my fault that you suck.'

Sheila giggled at Eric's irritation as she towelled off her hair.

'Why don't you get Presto to send you out for your run?' asked the Cavalier of the Unicorn. 'Burn off some of that aggression ya got.'

'It's raining,' Uni replied.

'Presto's back?' Sheila asked.

'He's upstairs,' Uni told her, 'got in about an hour ago.'

'He's sulking,' Eric added.

'Oh.' Sheila sighed. 'That's not a good sign, is it?' She rubbed her cold arms. 'Still. Good to have him back.'

She caught a brief flash of old school mischief as it flashed across Eric's face. 'Yes?' he asked with a slight leer.

'Yes,' Sheila replied, curtly. 'Maybe if he's back we'll be able to get the stove going for a couple of hours without worrying too much about getting found out. I could really do with some hot food and a hot bath.'

'Well,' cooed Eric, 'maybe some pretty girl could be able to persuade him to cheer the Hell up and get a super protected fire blazing.'

Sheila narrowed her eyes at him.

'Where to find a pretty girl, though,' Eric continued, 'now _there's_ the pisser.' He grinned at her. 'I'd lend you mine, but she's napping right now. Don't wake her when you go up, by the way. She had a really rough night.'

'Another one?' Sheila shook her head. 'Poor Diana. She's been sick for a week now. You should get Presto to take a look at her.'

Eric arched an eyebrow. 'Gee, d'you think?'

'Don't get huffy at me,' Sheila told him, primly. 'Just because you're worried about her.'

'Who's worried?' Eric retorted with an over-the-top nonchalance. 'I'm sure it's just somethin' she ate. And at least it's grounded her for the time being. It's hardly "laying low" when one of our party feels the urge to stretch her wings every couple of nights. Not to mention, she's like a human hot water bottle. My bed's been warm as toast since she got sick.'

'You _are_ worried,' smiled Sheila, mounting the ladder up to the top floor. 'That's sweet.'

Eric scowled at the Thief as she ascended.

'Check,' announced the Unicorn.

'Oh, for the love of God!'

-x-

Sheila quietly pulled herself up through the trapdoor that separated the floors and tiptoed past the curtain that Eric and Diana had hung to give their small bedroom some privacy, taking care not to trip on the various odds and ends that cluttered the narrow corridor. She opened the door to the larger bedroom that she, despite his insistence that he could happily sleep in a chair downstairs, shared with Presto. Presto was sitting hunched up on his bed, his glasses off, his eyes closed.

'Hey, you,' she whispered.

'Diana's sleeping,' Presto muttered with eyes closed.

'I know,' replied Sheila, 'why d'you think I'm whispering?'

She sat next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. 'Didn't work, huh?'

Presto shook his head.

'For what it's worth,' Sheila continued, 'I'm kinda glad. Dead people should stay dead.'

'Yeah, sighed Presto. 'I know. And the old DM understood that too. Maybe that's why he didn't respond. Or maybe I've just gotten too weak to perform a resurrection. I don't know.' He rubbed his face. 'I don't know what we're gonna do next, Sheila. I really don't.'

'Well…' Sheila patted his shoulder, 'we stay put, we have a nice hot dinner, we'll wait for you to get some good rest and for Diana to get better, and then… well, then we'll come up with a new idea.'

'I don't know, Sheila.'

'We will! Remember back in the old days, when we were just trying to get home? Sometimes it got rough back then, too. Sometimes it was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel back then, when we were dealing with disappointment after disappointment. But we kept at it, we kept on trying, and eventually we did it. We got home.'

'But back then we had the old DM,' Presto retorted. 'And Hank, and Bobby.'

'Yeah, but we didn't have this funky little shack,' replied Sheila with a smile.

Presto snorted a short - but genuine – laugh. 'Sheila O'Brien, you have all the cynical pessimism of a Disney Princess at a Motivational Rally. Besides, I think technically this is classed as a hovel.'

'Funky little hovel, then.'

Presto put his glasses back on. 'How long do you really think we can stay here, resting on our laurels, hiding away? One of these days we'll get caught.' He paused. 'We need Hank and Bobby back. I should never have let our group get split like this…'

'They had to find their own paths for a while, Presto,' Sheila told him. 'That's why you had to let them go. And when the time's right they'll find their way back to us. And we won't get caught with you around. You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You're DM, for God's sake!'

Presto closed his eyes momentarily, feeling Sheila's hand as she gently rubbed a soft circle on his shoulder blade. 'Thank you, Sheila.'

'What for?'

'For your Faith.' He smiled across at her, warmly.

'You know what would _really_ say "Thank you" at a time like this…?' Sheila hopefully prompted.

Presto laughed again. 'Is it a bath full of hot water by a raging stove?'

'Could just be.'

-x-

Eric leant out of the water, wrapped a cloth around his hand, opened the lid of the pot of the stove and peered in.

'Dinner's nearly ready, guys,' he called, sitting back down in the tin bath.

'Well,' called Presto's voice from upstairs, 'we can't very much eat it with you two still in the bath, can we?'

'Yeah, yeah.' Eric rinsed off his hair and stood up.

Diana scowled up at him. 'You're dripping on me.'

'I'm getting my towel!' He wrapped the towel around his waist, failing to cover up a veritable plethora of scars. The wing on his shoulder had long since turned from mauve to white, and was now joined by a large mark on his belly which, along with an identical partner on the small of his back, bore witness to the strength of Kosar's Spear, and several smaller round scars from where the crossbow bolts had entered him. Various newer cuts, scratches and scabs told of more recent scuffles with Orcs, Zombies and the occasional Gnome which his new magically produced armour had been unable to completely protect him from. He held a second towel out to Diana.

'Want yours?'

Diana groaned, shrinking back against the tub.

'C'mon, Deeds. You don't want to shrivel up, do ya?'

With another groan Diana slowly, delicately lifted herself out of the bath and into the waiting towel.

'How're you feeling now?'

'Lame,' she growled in reply.

'Well…' Eric attempted in reply as he began pulling on his new red tunic, 'I'm sure you'll feel better after some nice hot food… baked potatoes, fresh bread, cowboy beans…'

Her bikini already hurriedly thrown on, Diana was fastening the long woollen robe she'd acquired to keep out the constant cold when Eric's menu list caused her to gag involuntarily.

'Don't think I can eat that,' she sighed. 'Maybe I can stomach a bit of bread, but…'

'You're kidding! Diana, you have got to eat.' Eric began tying a set of dark blue leather leggings, leaving – as he always did these days – his steel armour for quests and combat only. 'No wonder you're so drained all the time.'

Diana rubbed her temples. 'Stop lecturing me. I haven't got the energy.'

'I'm not lecturing you. But so help me, young lady, you are gonna sit at that table and eat a decent dinner for once.'

'You _are_ lecturing me.'

'I've only got your best interests at heart…'

'Stop lecturing Diana,' called Presto as he began to descend the ladder.

'See?' Diana grinned, weakly.

'And,' Presto added, 'if we've all had our baths and dinner's all ready it's high time we put that fire out.'

'Aww,' complained Eric and Diana in unison.

'Do we have to?' asked Sheila from the top of the ladder.

Presto rapped on the back window to call Uni in from her stable. 'It's been four hours. That's my absolute limit. It's been damn risky letting it burn all evening as it is. We can have two candles for light and that's it.'

Eric set to dousing the fire with a grumble as Sheila carried the hot food over to their small wooden table.

'Good to see you back, by the way,' Diana told Presto. 'Eric told me it didn't go so well for you.'

'No,' Presto replied, carefully looking the Acrobat up and down.

'Well,' she smiled, 'if it makes you feel any better, I've had a pretty crappy week myself.'

'You've been sick,' Presto recounted.

'As a dog,' replied Diana, 'for days and days now. Really tired too, but that's probably because I'm not eating or sleeping properly, right?'

'Um…' Presto breathed, 'sort of.'

'You know what's wrong with me?' Diana asked, 'just by looking at me?'

'Can you cure her?' added Eric. 'Please God tell me you can cure her, old buddy, she's such a pain in the ass when she's sick.'

'Um…' repeated Presto. 'Maybe we should have a word. In private.'

'What?' Eric snapped. 'What's wrong with her? Is it serious? Is she_dying_?'

'I'm not dying!'

'You could be dying!'

'Shut up, Eric…'

There was a sudden loud, slow, deliberate banging on the door. The squabbling youngsters were silenced in a heartbeat, watching the door warily, their breaths halted.

'What do you suppose…?' whispered Sheila. 'It's too late for callers.'

The door was banged again.

'You don't think…' breathed Eric, 'have we been spotted? Have they… have they come to take us? _Kill_ us?'

'Don't open it,' Diana hissed.

The door was banged yet again, very slowly, very forcefully.

Presto chewed his lip. 'Hide the weapons.'

'Oh shit,' Eric panicked, quietly, 'oh shit oh shit oh _shit_!'

Uni reached the back door of the shack, but at the sound of the banging, quickly turned tail and headed back to the relative sanctuary of her stable. The four remaining weapons were bundled up by Eric and taken upstairs to be thrown under a bed.

The door was pounded yet again.

Presto set his face, motioned for the girls to stay back, squared his shoulders and opened the door ajar.

'Hello…?' he managed before the sight in front of him rendered him mute with shock.

'Darndest thing,' said the cadaver, taking in the new surroundings, 'it's like a whole other world in here. Did you kids all know about this?'

_Oh God._

'You well, Arthur?' continued the corpse. 'Have to say, I don't care for the dress. Green's not really your colour. Wait a minute… Green… Greene… I just got that. Anyway, is my son about?'

_Oh God._

'It appears he's in need of my help. Again. The voices were really very insistent, got me out of my grave and everything. You thinkin' of having kids, Arthur? Take my advice. Don't.'

_Oh God._

'So, are you gonna let me in or am I gonna stand here and freeze what's left of my ass off for the rest of eternity?'

The corpse pushed past Presto and stepped into the shack.

'Ladies,' he greeted the two girls.

They both screamed.

'Get away from them.' Eric was hanging halfway down the ladder, Sheila's knife outstretched in one hand towards the interloper's back. 'Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck are you doing here?'

The newcomer smiled at the familiar voice from behind him. 'Me? Nobody. I've just here to save your ass, that's all, Kiddo.' He slowly turned around to face Eric. 'And if you ever dare cuss like that in front of me again I'm gonna wash out your mouth with carbolic soap.'

Eric froze, and gulped in three shallow breaths. 'Augh!!!'

He fell off the ladder.

Charles Montgomery shook his head at his son. 'Talk about ungrateful.'


	2. Chapter 2

FAMILY REUNION

-x-

Two

-x-

'A child,' murmured Ashi as the other refugees gathered around Lilac and her baby.

'You are very lucky,' Raeed told her, warmly. 'A son is a great blessing.'

Lilac glanced up at him with a cocked eyebrow. 'She's a girl.'

Raeed's smile widened. 'Then you are doubly blessed.'

Hank stood at the back of the group, his voice still stuck at the back of his throat. It was… it had to be… it _had_ to be Bobby's. Did Bobby know? He couldn't know… could he? He'd have told them… wouldn't he? If he was to be honest with himself, he really couldn't be that sure about anything any more. He watched from a distance while Lilac and her child were taken to the campfire, and given some food and water. Lilac didn't seem to have recognised him at all… he supposed he had the bandage to thank for that. Either that, or the woman was hesitant to engage with him. He had to admit, if that was the case, the feeling was more than mutual. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic about being reacquainted with anyone who linked him back to The Seven, Venger and Dungeon Master. He waited as the others left Lilac to feed the baby in peace. It was only once the infant was sleeping again that he quietly approached.

'You're quite a shot,' he told her.

Lilac nodded. 'Have to be. If only I could say the same about you.'

'Yeah.' Hank glanced down at his boots. 'My marksmanship wasn't too pretty, huh? But they say I'll learn to adjust with only one eye, and…'

'It isn't the eye,' muttered Lilac. 'It's the bow.'

'The bow?'

Lilac cast a critical glance over Big Sally. 'It's wrong. It's not your bow. I mean, you do realise a crossbow that size is a siege weapon, it's not meant for everyday use.'

Hank ran his hand over Big Sally's frame, as though the woman's words had offended the weapon. 'Pretty cool, though, isn't she?'

'It's not yours.' Lilac took a sip of water. 'Your stance, your build… it's all wrong for a crossbow. You should be using a Longbow.'

Hank narrowed his eyes… well… his _eye_. 'A Longbow?' She did recognise him. She had to!

'Don't tell me you've never used one before? You should have done.'

Hank paused, unsure as to how to continue. Either she truly had no recollection of who he was or she was avoiding the subject – presumably in the hope of steering the conversation away from the nine month gap between their meetings and certain uncanny family resemblances that the baby bore. He had to talk to her about it. He had to be sure. Besides which, he had to be very sure that Lilac didn't let any of _his_ secrets slip.

'Cute kid,' he murmured.

'I know,' Lilac replied, matter-of-factly.

'What's her name?'

Lilac ran a gentle finger over the newborn's wispy orange hair. 'Bluebell.'

'Huh.' Hank nodded a little to himself. 'Unusual.'

'Hmm?'

'It's an unusual name,' Hank continued. 'I mean… it is where I'm from, anyway. Might not be for you. After all, Lilac's kinda an unusual name too.' Hank gazed at her, deliberately.

Lilac looked up at him. 'I never told you my name.'

'Yes you did, Lilac. Just not today.'

Lilac stared at him. 'The Ranger,' she breathed. 'You were one of the… one of the…'

'Keep it down,' Hank hissed.

Lilac averted her eyes, mortified. 'Oh, no.'

'I'm afraid so.'

There was an awkward pause.

'Don't tell…' they both started, in unison. Lilac trailed off, bemused.

'Don't worry,' Hank replied, quietly. 'I left. I haven't seen Bob or any of the others for months. These guys,' he continued, with a nod towards the tents, 'they don't know who I am. Not really. I gave them my real name and told 'em I was a Ranger, but that's where it ends.'

'You're hiding.'

'It's for the best. For my old Gang's sake as well as this new one, not just for me.' He frowned at her, critically. 'Anyway, you can talk. Why didn't you find us? Why didn't you send a message? Bobby deserved to know!'

'I was ordered not to,' Lilac mumbled, 'on behalf of the Dungeon Master. I was told that the child of one of The Seven would be in terrible danger if it was known.'

Hank sighed, his mind's eye flashing terrible images of the things he had witnessed… the things he had _done_. 'You're probably right,' he replied.

There was another pause.

'I wanted to tell him,' Lilac sighed, eventually. 'He has the right to know.' She looked down at the sleeping baby. 'She looks like him, doesn't she?'

'Nah.' Hank cocked his head at the child, managing a tiny smile. 'Bob's a big ugly bastard. This little girl's much prettier than he is.'

'She's strong like him, too,' added Lilac. 'She should survive. Even in this broken world.'

Hank watched the baby sleeping for a moment more, then held out his arms. 'May I?'

Lilac pursed her lips. 'If you drop her, I'll run you through.' Carefully, she placed the child in his hands. 'Mind her head.'

'I know. I know.' He pulled the baby in close to his chest. 'I've done this before, you know. I still remember the day Mrs O'Brien came home with Bobby…' Hank trailed off, wistfully. 'You know who'd love her? Sheila.'

'Sheila…? That was your intended…?'

'Bluebell's aunt,' Hank replied, hurriedly. 'And I bet Presto would go gooey over her, too. And Diana. I know she's got to have some sorta maternal instinct in there somewhere. Heck, this little girl'd probably even make Eric melt.'

'And Bob?' prompted Lilac. 'Do you think Bob would…?'

'Bob would adore her,' Hank replied, definitely. 'Bob would move all Heaven and Earth for her.' He paused. 'He has to see her.'

Lilac shook her head, pulling the child out of Hank's grasp. 'The Dungeon Master said…'

'Our new DM hasn't exactly been firing on all cylinders since they took over the post, y'know,' Hank told her. 'Whoever it is has probably been wrong more often than right. Hell, even the Old Man made his mistakes from time to time. Dungeon Masters sure aren't as flawless as they like to make out they are.'

Lilac frowned. 'What are you saying? That I shouldn't trust the Dungeon Master?'

'I'm saying that the best guide you can follow is your heart.'

'You think I should take Bluebell to her father.'

'So do you. And that's what really counts.'

Lilac nodded to herself. She looked up at Hank again, a rare smile of hope brightening her face. 'You will help me to find him?'

Hank drew a sharp breath, and Lilac's smile faded again.

'Please?'

'I can help you work out where to look, I guess, but…'

'Please, Ranger,' hissed Lilac. 'It is so dangerous for the two of us alone.'

Hank shook his head.

'Your old group,' Lilac continued, 'don't you want to see them again?'

Of course Hank wanted to see them again. They were his Gang. Practically family. He missed them each and every day, even more than he missed his own parents. And Sheila – oh God, Sheila. Living without her was like living without… without an arm, or a leg, or an… he involuntarily reached up to touch his bandaged face again. As his fingers brushed the gauze he felt the crunch of his head hitting the rocks, the drop in his belly as he fell from the sky… the feel of Sheila's face beneath his knuckles. He heard her scream. He heard them all scream.

'I can't,' he told her. 'It's complicated. I'm sorry. It's for the best.'

'As is keeping Bluebell a secret,' Lilac replied angrily, 'or so I was made to believe. But I know in my heart of hearts that that isn't right.' Clutching the baby to her chest, she stood up and walked off towards the others in the encampment. 'Perhaps it's you who should be searching their conscious, Ranger. Not me.'

-x-

'Eric?'

There was something cold and wet being pressed against his forehead. He groaned, and opened his eyes blearily. Sheila was kneeling over him, a cold compress in her hands. He looked up. Leaning against the wall next to him, Diana gave him a groggy smile.

'Hey! You're still alive! Presto, guess I owe you a day's washing up duty.'

'Thank you for mopping my fevered brow, Honeybunch,' Eric replied to his girlfriend, dryly.

Diana shrugged. 'Can't really bend down without hurling. Why, what's wrong with Sheila actin' nursemaid?'

'Yeah,' Sheila added, annoyed. 'I'm _much_ better at this sorta thing than she is.'

'Nothing personal, Sheila…' Eric attempted.

'I brought you down a pillow,' Sheila muttered. 'Nobody else would think of bringing you a pillow. Doesn't even thank me…'

'Thank you, Sheila,' conceded Eric with a sigh.

'It's all I ask,' accepted Sheila with a curt nod.

Eric smacked his lips. 'I could do with a glass of…'

Presto sat down next to him, passing him a cup of water. 'How ya holding up there? You were out for over a minute.'

'That all?' frowned Eric. 'Jesus, Presto, I think I might be going nuts again. I had that dream. Y'know - that dream I used to have before Venger pulled the curse outta me?'

'Uh… Eric?' warned Presto.

'My Dad was back again,' Eric continued, undeterred. 'He was all dead and gross and he'd… he'd followed us here or somethin'.'

'Eric…'

'It was creepy. He was standing right there!' The Cavalier pointed towards the closed front door.

'Actually,' added an older voice, 'I was standing over here.'

Eric turned an even paler shade as he craned round his head to see his deceased father sarcastically waving back at him from the dinner table.

'Mr Montgomery!' cried Sheila in protest. 'What if he faints again?'

'Relax. Kid can't fall off the floor…' The late Charles Montgomery quirked an eyebrow at his son. 'Can he…?'

Eric picked himself up off the floor. 'What the Hell is going on, Dad? What are you doing here? You're dead!'

'I gathered that.' Charles leaned against the table. 'I was called. Something told me you were in trouble, and you needed my help.'

'The Necromancy Spell,' Presto muttered. 'I called on a father to help a son…'

'It backfired?' Sheila murmured.

Presto squeezed the bridge of his nose. 'It would hardly be the first time I've had a spell backfire on me, now would it?'

'Let me just get this straight,' Eric scowled. 'You were busy off being dead, you got a call to come back to life, bust outta your grave, find the Realm, go to all that trouble, just to help me out… and you _did it_?'

'You're welcome,' nodded Charles.

'You actually came,' Eric continued. 'Found a portal and lolloped all the way to my house. For me.'

'Sure.'

Eric folded his arms, narrowing his eyes at his father. 'Well, I'd say that was pretty convenient timing, wouldn't you, Dad?'

'What?' Charles Montgomery furrowed his brow. 'Eric, I can't really think of any _less_ convenient timing. I'm dead, for Chrissakes!'

'Exactly!' Eric pointed an accusatory finger at his dad. 'You were _never_ there for me when I needed you, Dad – never! There were so many times when I needed your help, or your support, and you just blew me off. And now you're dead and you get this one last opportunity to be a half decent father. The ultimate Deathbed Conversion. And you think you can just make everything better, make a single offering to make up for all those lost years, right?'

'It's… it's not like that at all, Eric. Let me explain.'

Eric shook his head. 'You are so full of shit.'

'That is no way to speak to your father!' Mr Montgomery cried.

'It's the perfect way to speak to you, Dad! It's what I've wanted to say to you for years!'

'Show some respect!'

'_You_ show_ me_ some respect!' Eric turned away, towards the ladder to the upper floor. 'Go back to your damn grave. Leave me alone and stop trying to cheat your way out of the legacy you made yourself as the worst father in history.'

'That's it, young man!' Charles cried, 'go to your room!'

'I'm _going_ to my room!' Eric yelled back, climbing the ladder with furious stomps.

The others watched Eric's slow storm out of the room, then turned to each other, awkwardly.

'Someone should go after him,' Diana suggested. There was a pause. She realised that Presto and Sheila were both looking at her. 'Oh yeah,' she remembered, 'the whole Boyfriend Girlfriend thing.'

She pulled herself up a couple of rungs of the ladder before she had to stop suddenly and jump off. She clasped her hand over her mouth and made a sudden dash for the back door.

'Gotta barf.'

Sheila sighed. 'I'll go.'

The Thief climbed the ladder, leaving Presto alone with his friend's late father.

'I'm sorry, Mr Montgomery,' Presto mumbled. 'This is all kinda my fault.'

Charles puffed out a sigh, watching the ladder that his son had ascended. 'Hardly, Arthur. You're not the one who made my kid a resentful brat.'

Presto bit down the automatic urge to defend Eric. 'I'm pretty sure it was me who… y'know…'

'Zombified me?' Charles snorted a mocking laugh. 'Don't tell me you still believe you can do all that Witches and Warlocks crap. It's even dumber than the card tricks.'

'This is a different world, Mr Montgomery,' Presto continued, with as much reverence as he could muster. 'Magic's much stronger here…'

'Yeah. Couldn't help but notice the odd dragon and suchlike round these parts as I was trying to find you kids. I'd have been more surprised, only, y'know, I'm a zombie now, so I guess there are weirder things. Incidentally, I noticed you have a Unicorn in the back yard.'

Presto glanced at the back window, through which Uni was gazing in trepidation at the newcomer.

'It's OK, Uni,' he called, 'he's on our side… I think.'

Uni retained her distrustful stare for a moment longer, then clopped slowly through the door that Diana had left ajar while the Acrobat continued to noisily wretch outside.

'We're letting in Zombies now?' muttered the Unicorn darkly as she passed.

'And a talking Unicorn at that,' noted Charles, brightly, 'how interesting.'

'She's an old friend,' Presto told him, giving the Unicorn a light pat on the haunches as she ambled over to the leftovers on the table.

Charles Montgomery smiled, strangely. 'You were here all along, weren't you?'

'Huh?'

'This is where you came that time you went missing. Before, I mean.'

Presto frowned. 'How did you work that out?'

'Things get a lot clearer once you're dead,' Charles shrugged. 'This place knows you guys. It's like an Ex Wife that just keeps on coming back for more and more and more.' Charles paused. 'And it wasn't just overnight, was it? Cause I mean, my boy always had his growth spurts and mood swings, but four inches and a totally new personality in 24 hours…?'

'They were here for two years,' Uni told him, quietly. 'You're Eric's father, aren't you?'

Charles nodded in a businesslike fashion. 'Charles Montgomery, Deceased. I'd gladly shake your hand, only you don't appear to have one.'

Uni just looked over at Presto. 'This isn't right.'

'I know,' Presto sighed. 'The spell was meant for the old DM, and…'

'Didn't Eric's father die before you guys came back here?' Uni interrupted. 'I mean, isn't he awfully… Fresh? Considering?'

All that Charles was able to respond with was 'Huh?'

'Uni's right,' Presto worried. 'You've been dead nearly 10 months, Mr Montgomery, but you're barely decomposed.'

Charles shrugged. 'Well, isn't that a good thing?'

'For our noses, sure,' Presto told him. 'For you, not so much. Your body's rebuilding itself so it can exist here properly. You get too fresh, you could get stuck as one of the undead… well… forever.'

'Yeah, that's not gonna work for me, Arthur,' Charles replied. 'I got a posthumous reputation to keep here. Gonna kinda go to shit if I show up in the Society Pages as one of the Living Dead, y'know, Bride of Frankenstein in one hand, warm human brain matter in the other… Tell you what, since my precious Son who I came all this way to see has decided to throw one of his little tantrums, and since you think you're the one who brought me here, why don't you just cast a reverse spell or something so I can get back to my ever-so-vital task of feeding the worms.'

'I can't.' Presto furrowed his brow. 'Sorry.'

'Why doesn't that surprise me?'

'It's something you have to decide to do.' Presto poked at an almost burnt-out candle. 'You have to let go of life – you were only able to answer the spell because you aren't able to accept death yet…'

'Are you telling me I'm here because I _want_ to be, Arthur Greene?'

Presto wandered over to the supplies cupboard in order to avoid Charles' gaze.

'You think I wanted to crawl out of my grave, see the mess that's left of my abandoned legacy? Think I wanted to walk on rotten feet to a whole different dimension just to see my only son living like an urchin in a shack and telling me he hates me? Really think that's what I want?'

'You just gotta admit that life's over, Mr Montgomery,' Presto mumbled, pulling a fresh candle from the cupboard. 'Let it go.'

'Give up, you mean? Just lie down and give up like a bum.'

'Give up on what?' snorted Uni. 'You're already dead.'

'And you have to be able to find peace with that,' Presto added.

Charles slumped down in one of the rickety kitchen chairs. 'How am I supposed to be at peace, Arthur? The house is ruined. My asshole attorneys are probably picking the family fortune to the bones. What have I got to show for my life?' He pointed glumly at the trapdoor in the ceiling that Eric had disappeared into. '_That_,' he concluded.

'I'd say that was a pretty darn fine legacy, Mr Montgomery,' Presto replied, nervously.

Charles raised his eyebrows. 'Would you, now?'

Presto concentrated on lighting the new candle's wick with the dying candle's tiny flame. 'There's more to Eric than meets the eye, you know.'

'Are you telling me I don't know my own son, Arthur?'

'I… I'm just saying that there's always more to every situation than first appears…'

The second candle exploded into a tongue of flame three feet high.

'No!' Presto threw the offending candle into a bucket of water next to the back door. Uni and Charles shot to their feet in panic.

'What the Hell was that?' Demanded the zombie.

'That _was_ Hell,' the Unicorn answered. 'Presto, she's found us.'

'No,' panicked Presto. 'No, we were so careful… we were safe!'

'We couldn't have hidden forever,' Uni retorted, hurrying to the back door. 'We have to leave.'

The dying candle billowed suddenly, sending sparks flying, which found the wooden table and burned there merrily. They themselves sparked again, catching the thin curtains and one of the chairs.

'She's found us,' Presto repeated to himself, dazed. 'She's found us. It's over.'


	3. Chapter 3

FAMILY REUNION

-x-

Three

-x-

'Come on!'

Flames were licking at the walls and ceiling of the little hovel, filling it with a bright, terrible heat. She had found them. They had lost. It was finished. Somebody was tugging at his arm. He looked up.

'We've got to go, Presto.'

Sheila. Little Sheila, that ray of hope in the bleak firelight, clasping on her cloak and pulling at his sleeve. And behind her, Eric and Diana. Panicked and drained, clutching their weapons, they were still the Acrobat and the Cavalier. So full of life – more full of life than they yet understood – the future. His friends remained. And while they did, so did hope. So did the future. They would run again. They would escape. They would survive… for now.

He nodded, and held out his hands. Sheila took his left hand, Eric and Diana both grasped his right wrist.

'Uni?' He called over his shoulder.

'I can follow you,' answered the Unicorn's voice from the smoke.

'I might have trouble with Mr Montgomery,' Presto added. 'I'm not used to doing this with dead guys.'

'Doing what?' Demanded another voice. 'Where's the fire extinguisher?'

'Just grab hold of me,' ordered Uni, 'and don't let go.'

Tout of the corner of his eye, Presto could see the raging fire taking a female form. He held his breath, and concentrated.

-x-

The bright red behind her closed eyelids turned to white, then black. The heat on her skin disappeared suddenly, and was replaced by a cold wind. She opened her eyes, and exhaled. They were in a field. She let go of Presto's wrist, but allowed Eric to keep a hold of her hand. The fire was gone. The shack was gone.

It was gone.

Their sanctuary, their little home for the last six months, was gone, just like that.

The constant background sensation of nausea that had lurked in her belly since she'd started getting sick welled up to the back of the throat again. She hunched forward and spat up a mouthful of bitter yellow bile while Eric, well practiced by this point, quickly grabbed her long hair and held it away from her face.

There was a brief hum of magic, followed by the faint sensation of the space around them expanding ever-so-slightly to make way for the sudden arrival of a solid object, followed in turn by the expletives of a dazed and teleport-sick zombie.

'Jesus H Kristovskyi! What the fuck was all that about?'

'The house was on fire,' Presto murmured. 'We had to leave.'

'What, you kids didn't think of putting it out?'

'That was no ordinary fire…' Sheila tried to explain.

'Tellin' me! Did anyone else _see_ that thing?'

'We've all seen it, Dad,' Eric growled under his breath, so that only Diana, next to him, could hear.

'Yeah, but it was changing! I swear on my grave, it was turning into a… a chick.' Charles paused. 'A dame,' he added.

'We know.' Sheila gave Presto's shoulder a quick squeeze of encouragement. 'That's why we had to go.'

'But she was about eight feet high, and the titties… Jesus.' Charles shrugged his eyebrows at Eric as his son rubbed his temples in embarrassment. 'Seriously? Nobody else wanted to stick around and see what that Hot Tomato was gonna actually _do_?'

'We knew exactly what she was going to do,' Uni grunted. 'She was going to incinerate you and me, and take the other guys to be tortured to death.'

'No sexy dancing, then?'

'Not even a quick two-step.'

'She's a demon called Furnus,' Sheila added, helpfully. 'She's kinda our mortal enemy.'

'Oh.' Charles pondered for a moment. 'Oh,' he repeated in a more meaningful tone. 'That's how you got burned isn't it, Kiddo?'

'It wasn't quite like…' began Eric, but his father just kept taking over him.

'I _knew_ there was more to that than you kids said, I just knew it! If I wasn't a gentleman and she wasn't made outta fire I'd pop that Bitch in the jaw…'

'It wasn't her,' Presto told Charles. 'She wasn't around back then.'

'Well, who was it?'

'Hello,' greeted a deep voice, awkwardly, from behind the zombie.

Charles turned to look the newcomer up and down… mostly up.

'You've got giant bat wings,' he observed, flatly.

'Yes,' Venger replied, perplexed.

'And you haven't got a nose.'

'Your left temple is covered in mould,' Venger answered, still bemused.

Diana gagged again.

'Ya don't have to point it out!' Eric spat.

'I am sorry,' worried Venger. 'I thought it was some sort of game.'

'Another weird and wonderful friend of yours, Son?' Charles asked.

Eric just scoffed.

Venger nodded to himself. 'You are the Cavalier's father.'

'Cava-what-now?'

'Eric's father,' Venger corrected himself.

'What the Hell did he call you, Kiddo?' Charles asked loudly. 'Weren't they those Limeys with the girlie hair?'

'It is merely your son's…' Venger attempted.

'Now listen up, Marylin Manson,' Charles blustered. 'This kid's mother, may she rot in Hell, may be a Redcoat but that doesn't stop him being as American as a great big hunk of apple pie wrapped in the Stars & Stripes and served up to Uncle Sam to at Disneyland. And his hair is practically Military. I'd happily take responsibility for that myself, but he's kinda plagued by problem follicles.'

'Dad…'

'Tried to grow it once, it just went really big and bouffy, didn't it, Kid?'

'Dad!'

'What?' Charles barked. 'I'm just sayin'…'

'I do not believe it means the same as it does on your world,' Venger told him. 'From my limited knowledge of Earth History I…'

'Who the Hell are you, anyway?' Charles interrupted again.

'This is Venger,' Presto hurried. 'He's on our side.'

'He's a good guy? With a name like Venger?'

'He's… reformed.'

Charles eyed Venger warily. 'He's a Goth.'

Venger just looked from Charles back to Presto, still confused.

'Are we safe from Furnus?' Sheila asked him.

'She and her minions were unable to follow your trail,' Venger sighed, grateful of the subject change, 'but it is of great concern that she was able to locate you through such a small flame.'

'Yeah, that's funny, huh,' Eric added, 'we were doin' just fine for a good six months, and all of a sudden she shows up, just a few minutes after my dead father does…'

'What are you insinuating?' Charles snapped.

'Oh come _on,_ Dad! You don't expect us to think it's a coincidence, do you?'

'I don't even know this bitch! What makes you think I'd side with her against you?'

'Nobody's suggesting you did it on purpose,' Presto soothed. 'But she might have found a way of following you to us. She's got spies just about everywhere.'

'Then why did you bring me here, Arthur?'

'I didn't do it on purpose!' Presto sank down onto the grass, miserably. 'I didn't do any of this on purpose.'

'But it is done,' added Venger. 'The only thing to do now is to decide on our next strategy.'

Presto shrugged, despondantly. 'We hide again.'

'Oh for fuck's sake, Arthur,' Charles sneered, 'what are you, French?'

'Shut up, Dad…' Eric mumbled, a little louder than he'd intended. If his father had heard him, however, he was paying him no heed.

'Why not?' Charles continued. 'Why not live in a tumbledown little shed in the middle of nowhere for another half a year? Why not just dig a hole here where we're standing and cower in that for the rest of your lives? Why not just hand your cojones in right now and have done with it?'

'You don't know anything about…'

'I know plenty enough, thank you Sonny-Jim. I know that you kids used to have a bit of courage. A bit of strength. A bit of fucking dignity. What the Hell has happened? What happened to the kid who announced to his Super-Jewish parents that he was gonna trade his Menorah in for a Tarot Deck and a Spell Book, and all the emotional blackmail and passive-aggressive prayers couldn't do a thing to stop him? What happened to the girl who went from weedy Church Mouse to the only female Karate Black Belt in the county in two years flat? What happened to the young lady who wasn't afraid to over achieve at the track and the classroom in a school full of idiot Aryan bullies who'd raise merry Hell if they saw a Black kid being better at stuff than them? What happened to those guys, huh?'

Diana blinked at Charles. 'How do you know all that stuff?'

'I pay attention to stuff I hear about my son's best friends. It's a little thing called Fatherhood.'

Eric shook his head. 'But you never listened when I talked about my friends. You never listened when I talked about anything to do with my life. Your eyes would just glaze right over.'

'Hmm…?'

'…like they're doing now!'

'Eric, I'm dead. My eyes are supposed to be glazey. I'll have you know I'm every bit as observant as I was when I was alive…' He frowned at Sheila. 'Don't you usually have a Cro-Magnon brother and Good-For-Nothin' boyfriend with you?'

'They _are_ here,' Sheila sighed. 'Somewhere in the Realm, anyway. Hank and Bobby went their own ways a while ago.'

'Mopey and Lurch,' Charles recalled. 'Yes, now I remember. Why'd they split?'

'It's a long…'

'Haven't you kids ever heard of "United we stand, divided we fall"?'

'Sure, but…'

'Look, I might be a little new to this situation, but it seems to me like the last thing you need to be doing right now is sitting around thinking or wandering off to find yourselves! You stupid kids have always done stuff together, ever since you went missing, I can only assume that was because you guys learned to work as a team to get yourself outta trouble, right? Course I'm right! No wonder you kids keep running away from the fight, you're a whole third short. And I don't think that a sarcastic Unicorn and a taciturn Devil-thing are gonna make up the numbers.'

'But…'

'But nothing! Come on, you kids are a freaking shambles, you need to get your act together and if nobody else is gonna force you to do that, well I guess it may as well be me, since you all hate me anyway…'

'But _I_ don't…' began Sheila.

'Don't try to deny it, Toots, any friends of my Son's have to resent me by Proxy, am I right, Kiddo?'

Eric drew breath to answer.

'Rhetorical question, Eric. I'da hoped you'd be able to tell the difference by now.' Charles smiled brightly at the others. 'You see, that's why he hates me. Stuff like that. Anyway, we'd better skedaddle.'

Presto frowned. 'Where are we going?'

'To find your other little pals, Arthur. Jesus, have you kids been listening to a word I've said?'

Everybody else just looked at him blankly again.

A large, dry leaf tumbled past them in the wind.

Diana threw up.

-x-

Hank lay back in his dark tent, his hands behind his head, and thought.

Lilac didn't understand. How could she? He couldn't go back. He couldn't face them again. He couldn't risk another fight, another fall…

But the baby. Of course Bobby deserved to see the baby, of course the child deserved as much protection as possible on the dangerous journey to find her father. What if it was _his_ child…? He had to admit, Bluebell's strong resemblance to Sheila's baby pictures filled him with the memories of very old hopes and dreams… dreams from another age, another life… dreams of running his hands gently over Sheila's swollen belly, the mad hospital dash, a bunch of her favourite flowers, teeny tiny little socks… Sheila. His mind travelled back to that last time they'd… well, "made love" was the wrong term for a drunken ten minutes in a tavern's bedroom.

He blinked.

The tavern. That was the night that Bobby had spent with Lilac. And he and Sheila had certainly been no more careful than the Barbarian had been. He counted back the months to the night he'd left. He closed his eye, playing over the images of the Thief in pregnancy's bloom yet again, only this time there was no hospital, and no flowers and no socks… and his hands were not there.

Of course, that was impossible. He hadn't gotten Sheila pregnant.

Had he? She wouldn't have been showing by the time he left. Perhaps she didn't want to tell him… perhaps she didn't know…

No. That was stupid.

Still, the thoughts came back to him. And even older thoughts now. Even older hopes. Simple hopes, like asking out the girl he liked, like getting home.

Like getting his Gang home.

His Gang. God, they'd been through so much together. But they had fought together, and starved together, and slept together in huddles against the cold and rain…

But he had a new Gang now. They cared for him in ways that the old kids never had – they never expected him to lead, or provide solutions or support. They never looked up to him. They allowed him to simply be. The revelation that he was one of The Seven would surely change all of that, and put their lives in jeopardy. They didn't deserve that.

But… did they really have to know? He could grab the Magic Bow he still had smuggled away, slip out with Lilac there and then, just thank them for their company over the last months and leave. They'd certainly get by without him. They didn't _need_ him.

He thought back to a time when he _was_ needed.

All the pressure, all the expectation, all the responsibility… it was terrifying.

All the admiration, all the pride, all the affection… it was wonderful.

What if the old Gang needed him again? What if something had happened to Presto? Or Bobby? Or… what if Sheila needed him? God, the baby looked so much like her…

Would they even want to see him again? It had been a long time… but then, perhaps that was a good thing. Perhaps they had already forgiven him.

Perhaps.

Hank had to admit to himself that was unlikely. How were they supposed to forgive what he hadn't even properly apologised for?

Hank didn't know what to do. Lilac had told him to search his heart, but all his heart held was confusion. Confusion, and the memories of a life he no longer knew – a boy he no longer knew. He closed his remaining eye again and tried to picture the boy. A fresh, kind face, a hopeful smile… two blue eyes so full of life and spirit. The Ranger. What would he have done in this situation, this pure hearted boy?

What would Hank do?

He saw his younger self on a treetop platform, turning away from the anger and disappointment of the others just as he had done six months ago. Only, back then he didn't just give up and run away. He found a way to make it all better again. He found a way to make things right.

He sat up, suddenly. He made things right again. He took the responsibility. That was what was in his heart – somebody who still loved his friends, who still wanted to help them get through this mess in one piece. Somebody who wanted to protect them, and their children. Somebody who could face the music. Somebody who could take responsibility.

The Ranger. The Ranger was still there.

And the Ranger knew exactly what to do.

He reached out to the pile of ragged clothes under which he had kept his Bow hidden since he'd joined the refugees. A momentary flash of the many times since the Incident that he'd seriously considered destroying the Magical Weapon played on his memory as he searched, but he quickly suppressed it, merely glad that he had never given into those urges. He reached the bottom of the pile, and his heart skipped a beat.

It was gone!

He clawed through the rags again, desperately, but felt nothing but thin fabric. It was gone.

It had definitely been there… he couldn't have abandoned it and forgotten, could he…? No. No. It had to have been stolen. Somebody had stolen his Bow. The only offensive Weapon of the six, the most destructive, and _somebody had taken it!_

He struggled to control his breathing. He could get it back. He could make it right. He just had to take responsibility…

He hurried out of the tent. The rest of the refugees regarded him oddly from their huddle by Raeed's tent.

'Hank?' Zule asked. 'You seem distracted.'

Hank pushed his fingers through his hair in a panic. 'We've been robbed.'

'"Robbed"?' echoed Vanti quietly, raising her eyebrows.

'Well… I've certainly been robbed.'

'What did they take?' There was something very strange – almost challenging - about Raeed's tone.

'Um…' Hank stalled. 'A personal artefact. It's, uh, it's real important I get it back.'

'Can you describe it?' Raeed asked.

'What's so important about it?' Ashi added.

'I can't… I can't tell you. Sorry.'

Raeed exchanged a glance with Zule. 'But I thought we were your friends.'

'You are,' Hank added, hastily. 'That's why I can't tell you. It's for your own protection.'

'Is it, now?' Raeed asked with a small smile. 'Do you not think that we can protect ourselves?'

'Sure,' struggled Hank, 'it's just… it's not that simple.'

'It may well have been this Lilac woman who stole from you,' Zule breezed. 'Describe what has gone missing and I shall wake her up and search her.'

Hank still worried. 'Maybe I should search her…'

'A man search an unchaperoned woman?' Raeed growled. 'How dare you. I will not allow it. Tell Zule what was taken. You need not be specific if that is your wish.'

'It's…' Hank sighed, defeated. 'It's a Longbow. Gold.'

'You don't make Longbows from gold,' Ashi snorted. 'I suppose it's strung with midnight silk…?'

'There is no string,' Hank told her before he could stop himself.

Ashi tilted her head. 'It's broken?'

'Unless it's Magic,' prompted Zule. She looked up at Hank, matter-of-factly. 'Is it Magic?'

Hank sighed. He was going to have to tell them, wasn't he? They were going to work it out, this clever band. And besides, the old Hank would have told them. He'd have been transparent right from the start. 'Yes.'

'Then I suppose the question is,' said Vanti with uncharacteristic boldness, 'where did _you_ get it from in the first place?'

'The Dungeon Master,' Hank replied, bluntly. 'Many years ago.' He paused, waiting for a response from the others, but, strangely, none came. 'It's one of the six Weapons of Power that was wielded against Venger in the last days of his Empire. I am one of The Seven, one of the Dungeon Master's pupils. I'm not just _a_ ranger. I'm _the_ Ranger.' He drew himself up a little taller and took a deep breath. It actually felt good to say it aloud. He was the Ranger. He was the Ranger!

His four companions looked at one another, and smiled.

Hank's face fell. 'You don't believe me? I am who I say I am!'

Raeed grinned. 'We know.' He reached inside the mouth of his tent and pulled out a familiar shape, wrapped in a sheet.

Hank's mouth fell open. '_You_ took it? But why?'

'Because we knew it was there,' Zule replied, 'and we knew you were fostering thoughts of destroying it. That, we could never allow. We knew you'd never forgive yourself if you did that. Besides, the six Weapons work best together. With the Bow gone, Presto and the others would have no hope at all.'

Hank took a step back. 'How do you know all this? Who are you people?'

Raeed got to his feet. 'You need to learn to see better with that one eye of yours, Hank,' he warned as he slowly approached the Ranger. 'See beyond vision. Look with your heart. It is so easy if you look with your heart.'

Hank shook his head in dismay. 'I don't understand.'

Raeed caught Hank's arm. 'Trust me, Hank,' he murmured. 'Close your eye. Just for a moment.'

'Tell me who you are!'

'Close your eye. Trust me.'

Against every cynical, untrusting nerve in his body, Hank gave in to Raeed's voice and blinked hard.

'Open.'

He opened his eye and looked at them again. And there, in the split second before the world came completely back into focus, they were. His pupil contracted in the sunlight, his vision sharpened once more and the illusion that made them all unrecognisable reasserted itself.

But he had seen. He had seen.

All this time!

For a giddy moment, he was a teenaged boy again. He barrelled into the older man and held him tight in a grinning, tearful bear-hug.

'You're alive!' Hank whispered. 'Thank God, Ramhoud, you're still alive!'


	4. Chapter 4

Four

-x-

Ramhoud prodded at the camp fire a little with a stick.

'He went to Zandora first,' he explained quietly, 'when the trouble with Furnus was beginning.'

The elderly woman who had hitherto been calling herself Zule piped up. 'There was word that Furnus was abducting the former allies of the Seven,' she added. 'It was a difficult choice that the Dungeon Master had to make – to first save those who were least capable of protecting themselves, or those who, if they could be saved, would be a greater help in the fight against her.' She sighed. 'He chose the latter. Many innocent lives were lost, so that we could survive to fight another day.'

'I know,' replied Hank. 'We found the bodies.'

Zandora nodded, sagely. 'Although the White Palace is a fine fortress, we decided it would be advisable if I… disappeared for a while. Since Venger never knew that Janapurna was a friend of yours, she was safe from Furnus' torturers, but the Palace already had The Truth to protect without adding myself to its concerns. The Dungeon Master returned to his battle with Furnus and I travelled East to Kaddish, on his instructions.'

'I too felt that the best course of action was to go into hiding until the time was right,' added Ramhoud. 'In order to protect my daughter…' he put his arm around "Ashi" 'and also to protect my country, and my people.'

Hank shook his head. 'We've seen your country, Ramhoud. It's been ransacked.'

'Around a third of it has fallen,' Ramhoud told him, sadly, 'but much of it still remains defended. It is a very big Kingdom. There are many refugees from the land that was lost, which means, at least, that there were many survivors.'

'We will get it back,' Ayeisha insisted. 'We will win our people's homes back from that She-Demon.'

'Kaddish would have suffered worse,' Zandora added, 'had its King still been on the throne. They would have stopped at nothing to get to him, and the Princess Ayeisha. Ramhoud made the right choice in going into hiding with myself.'

Hank turned to "Vanti". Quiet Vanti, sad Vanti, the porcelain girl. The source of the illusion that obscured the small band's true identities. She was good. Oh yes, she was an excellent counterfeiter.

'And you,' he asked her, 'were you with them from the start? Was everything you put us through… what you put Presto through… was that all just for show?'

'We were too late for her,' Ramhoud interjected. 'Furnus had already reached her before we could.'

'When Presto and the rest of your group came to me, I believed that there were none of your allies left alive, barring myself,' the Redhead told Hank, quietly. 'I know that that was no excuse, but I believed I had no alternative. She told me that if I did as she said I'd be able to save Presto at least…' she trailed off, miserably. 'I was so isolated.'

Hank's expression remained grim. 'You faked your death, Varla. You made Presto think you had killed yourself. You put him through all that misery!'

'And you have us to thank for that,' interjected Zandora, 'otherwise she really would be killed by now, or at least so under Furnus' control that she may as well be dead. Once Varla had lost your trust, Furnus became less interested in her, and left her in isolation. That was when we were finally able to contact her, and persuade her that her only escape from her situation would be to create the most convincing illusion she had ever made – the illusion of her death.'

'It had to be believed by everybody,' added Varla, softly. '_Everybody_. My people, Furnus' informants… even all of you. Even Presto. It was the only way.'

'But you've revealed yourself now,' Hank noted. 'Why?'

'The time is drawing near,' Ramhoud told him.

'What "time"?'

'The time when we must all stop running, and hiding,' Ramhoud announced, solemnly. 'The time when we must face up to our foes.'

Hank shook his head. 'We can't do that, Ramhoud. We're all scattered and broken…'

'Then we find each other again. We reunite!'

'You don't understand,' frowned Hank. 'The things that have happened… we're not ready. _I'm_ not ready.'

'It is because of you, Hank, that we know it is Time,' Zandora told him. 'It was you who made the decision to pick up your Bow again and be the Ranger once more. You lead the way, as you always did.'

Ayeisha held out the Bow towards Hank. 'We will follow you to find your friends. All of us.'

Hank reached out for the Bow, but his hand faltered. There it was again, gleaming and golden. Leadership. Purity. Strength. With him all along, but ignored all this time. The Ranger. The Ranger took his Bow from the girl, and ran his hand down its long, curving frame to feel the thrum of warm, shining magic, as he had done when first getting to grips with the weapon all those years ago. He looked up, and saw faces at the same time familiar and strange, gazing at him with expectation and trust.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly. 'I'm afraid I don't even know where to start looking for them.'

Zandora beamed widely, an open, superficially simple smile painfully reminiscent of the former Dungeon Master. 'Then ask somebody who does!'

* * *

Diana sat hunched, tired, nauseous and miserable, cradling a small carafe of water as the others speedily ate a magically produced meal of bread and cheese. Simple though it was, as much as Presto tried to convince her that his control over his Hat these days was such that nothing it produced would ever make her sick, and as much as Eric and Sheila insisted she had to keep her strength up, she still couldn't even consider eating. She'd even made Eric sit away from her, with the others, since the smell of the food turned her stomach. She watched them eating together as she sipped at her water. Presto's distraction was growing even greater – anybody could see that. Since Venger had suddenly excused himself and flown away a couple of hours previously, Presto had constantly been scanning the horizon, squinting and screwing up his face, the way he did when he was struggling to focus without his glasses. There was evidentially something Afoot. Something which Diana wasn't yet party to. It had the others spooked too… well, it had Sheila and Uni on edge, anyway. The Cavalier was still too concerned with cringing and sulking in fairly equal measures at his deceased father's presence to worry much about anything else. Eric was still as frustratingly protective of her as he had been ever since she'd started getting sick, but since Charles Montgomery had turned up Diana had been getting the sneaking suspicion that all the fussing and hand holding had been rather more for his benefit than hers…

'Penny for 'em?'

Diana jumped a little as the Zombie she had been contemplating sat down suddenly next to her.

'Well,' clarified Charles, 'maybe not a "penny" as such, since I don't appear to have any cash on me, but I could write you a cheque… although that might give my beloved son the wrong impression, actually, so how's about you just tell me what's on your mind, gratis, huh?'

Diana furrowed her brow. Mr Montgomery had barely ever breathed a word to her in the past, even when she and Eric were becoming close… in fact, she'd always suspected it was _because_ she and Eric had been becoming close. She wished that she was naïve enough to put his sudden chattiness with her down to a post-deathbed change of heart. Mr Montgomery had seen the way she and his son had been acting together since he'd arrived. He was testing the waters. Seeing whether this was just a Phase he was looking at or a full-blown Potential Daughter-In-Law.

'Aren't you going to ask me,' she replied eventually, 'what Intentions I have for your only son and heir?'

Charles Montgomery snorted a little laugh, not loud enough for Eric to hear. 'Miss Jones, I hope I know full well what your Intentions are towards him. How long did Arthur say you've been Stepping Out for now…? A little over six months? I should hope that by now you've fulfilled just about every Intention your pretty head could muster, and then some.'

An overwhelmed little girl deep in the pit of Diana's stomach wanted to blush hotly, but the Acrobat fought the urge, and retained her level gaze at the Zombie. 'Are you trying to embarrass me, Mr Montgomery?'

'Not in the least,' Charles smiled, genially. 'I'm actually very relieved. Grateful to you, even. I was starting to worry about him.'

Diana narrowed her eyes, playfully, despite herself. 'You didn't… you didn't think he might be…?'

'Didn't you?' Charles quirked an eyebrow. 'But then I started seeing things in his room after he was injured that made me think otherwise. Photos, newspaper cuttings, doodles… always the same girl. Always.'

'What are you trying to tell me?'

Charles smiled again, softer this time. 'I'm telling you that you set my mind to rest about which way my kid's bread was buttered a lot longer ago than you think.'

'Well.' Diana nodded. 'That's… pretty flattering, I guess.' She took in the Zombie's expression. 'You don't approve, do you? Of how strongly he feels, I mean.'

'Honestly?' sighed Charles. 'No. No, I can't say that I do.'

Diana scowled down at her cup of water.

'I know my son,' reiterated Charles. 'I could tell that this wasn't just a crush. The way he talked about you, the way he looked at you… I knew it was all full-on violins and soft-focus-close-ups as far as he was concerned. I watched from the sidelines while my son fell head-over-heels in love with you, the poor kid.'

'Poor kid,' Diana echoed, 'to fall for someone like me…' she looked up at him. 'Tell me, is it my history of various Sexploits that makes you hate me, or just the colour of my skin? Cause I can't change my past any more than I can change being Black, but you…'

'Woah!' The Zombie held his hands up, entreatingly. 'Woah there, Missy! Where's all of this coming from? Listen, as long as you were careful and don't give my son anything that'll make his Wing-Wang drop off then whatever might have happened in the past is your business. And I resent the insinuation that I'm some sort of Racist. What the Hell gave you that idea?'

Diana shrugged, sarcastically. 'Maybe it's that you've always given my the cold shoulder, maybe it was the phone call from your wife un-inviting me from a vacation at her Ski Lodge because "the only place there for My Kind there was making beds and waiting tables".'

'_Ex_-wife,' Charles growled. 'The "Ex" is very important. Listen, if you intend to date my son, you're going to have to learn to let every twisted word that vicious, bitter old bitch says to and about you wash over you like water over a duck's fluffy behind. I have, and God knows Eric has too… What did he say about that little pearl of White Imperialism when you told him?'

'I didn't.'

'What? Why the Hell not?'

'I… didn't want to upset him.'

'Oh, what? Give the kid some credit, would you? You think it's news to him that his Old Lady's a Bigot?'

'Well, if she's so terrible, and everything she does and says is so reprehensible, why did you marry her in the first place?'

Charles fixed Diana with a Look that, in spite of the wrinkles and decaying skin, was so very like the Looks Eric gave her when in his quiet, serious moods that for a moment she forgot whom it was she was talking to.

'Because I was young. And I was stupid. And she was beautiful, academic, vital… I was 19 years old when I fell in love with Celia, and when I turned 22 we had to arrange a very, very speedy Society Wedding, if you get my drift…' Charles paused. 'Now, when Eric started falling in love with you, you guys were, what… 15? 16? And now you're all serious, at exactly the age I was when I made that terrible, terrible mistake. The reason I don't approve has nothing to do with the person I think you are. It has everything to do with the person I know my son is. He's a Montgomery. He's fast to fall in love, eager to commit because he's just so terrified of being alone. But he's… Difficult. It wasn't ever easy being his father, I can't imagine how hard it would be to be his wife… We Montgomeries pursue explosive women – you ladies are like Catnip to us, we just can't resist the slanging matches… to begin with. But then time wears on, and the fights get meaner and meaner, and we get more and more petulant… a Montgomery needs a quiet, patient wife,' he concluded. 'But we never seem to go for them. I'm not sure that you'd be able to cope with my son for the rest of your life, Miss Jones. And I know that, right now, that's what he wants to give you, because I've already been in his shoes. That's why I don't approve.'

'With all due respect,' Diana replied, 'you couldn't fit into his cast iron shoes if your afterlife depended on it, Sir. His circumstances are nothing like yours. This place isn't exactly the Freshman year at Harvard, you know. We've been through a lot together – a Hell of a lot. We might still look like kids to you, but we haven't been kids for a long, long time now. We've all looked our Demons in the eye, and I'm not even talking metaphorically here. I can cope with Eric and his Moods – believe me. They're the least of my troubles. And, you know what? You might think you know your son, but I know him too. In fact, I've probably spent more time with him, and exchanged more words of fondness and of anger with him than you ever have. I know what he's like. I know what I've gotten myself into.'

'Do you?' Charles asked her, flatly.

'I love him. He made me love him, and he made me understand what it really means to love. Nobody's ever been able to get me to look deep into their soul and see all the beauty and all the ugliness together, and love them all the same for who they really are before he did.'

'But when you get back, and get settled into everyday life again…'

'I don't think we _are_ going back, Mr Montgomery. Not this time. So if you're worried about me getting involved with him for his money, think again, He hasn't got a dime out here, and that's just fine with me.'

Charles Montgomery let out a long slow sigh of resignation.

'Well. You're no Celia, Miss Jones, that's for certain. And she certainly hates your guts, which is a definite Plus in my books.' He smirked a little. 'And I sure wish I could see her face if she ever got to see a bunch of little Mochachino grandkids…'

'Hold onto your horses, Mr Montgomery!' Diana giggled, incredulously. 'When did we start talking about babies, for goodness sake?'

Charles rolled his eyes. 'Oh, come off it, you're not fooling anybody.'

'What?' Blinked Diana.

'Please!' Charles snorted.

'Seriously,' Diana demanded, 'what the Hell are you talking about?'

'What's goin' on over there?' called Eric from the other side of the camp, suddenly alerted to the undesired discussion between his girlfriend and his father. 'Dad, don't pester her! Why are you pestering her?'

'You're throwing up all the time,' Charles reminded her, 'you're always tired… _somebody_ hasn't been taking precautions, young Miss.'

'How dare you!' Diana breathed.

'Leave her alone!' Eric cried, getting to his feet in order to march over to the pair.

'Of course I take precautions,' Diana continued in a low voice, 'and even if I didn't it's none of your business…'

'It's my grandchild,' the zombie told her. 'That makes it plenty my business.'

'There is no grandchild!' Diana exclaimed. 'I'm not having a baby. I can't be. It's impossible!'

Charles shrugged. 'So's climbing up outta your grave and into a different dimension, but here I am…'

Eric had reached them. 'Don't listen to him, Deeds. What are you saying to upset her, Dad?'

'He thinks we're having a baby.'

Eric scoffed. 'What… here? _Now_? You're clutching at straws, Dad.'

'How do you know she's not?'

'Well, first of all, she's got this implant gizmo, like the Pill, but better, and secondly, if she _was_, God forbid, Presto woulda told us.'

On the other side of the makeshift camp, Presto looked up suddenly from his distraction at the sound of his name. 'Huh? Whassat?'

'Arthur…?' Charles asked. '_Him?_ What does he know?'

'He knows plenty,' Diana informed the Zombie. 'He's Wise, I'll have you know. He's Sage.'

'Presto,' asked Eric with an old-school, high volume sarcasm, 'Oh Wise And Sage Presto, riddle-me this; is Diana Jones pregnant?'

Presto gasped suddenly, as if he'd just remembered he'd left the oven on back at home. He pressed his fingers over his mouth in panic.

'What?' Eric added with a cocked eyebrow.

'Oh no…' Presto muttered. 'I completely forgot…'

'What is it?!'

Presto pulled his hand from his lips and regarded Eric and Diana with worried eyes.

'I _knew_ there was something I had to tell you guys!'


	5. Chapter 5

Five

-x-

'What?' cried Eric for the fifteenth time. 'How the Hell…' he added (seventh time) and then completed his non-sentence with a sixteenth 'WHAT?!'

'OK, please?' Presto interjected, again, not for the first time, 'please, just calm down.'

'I'M CALM!!' Eric shrieked. 'I just don't… How the Hell… I mean, what…?'

Presto crouched down next to Diana, who was being considerably more stoic about the revelation than Eric was. Worryingly so – she hadn't screamed, had cried, hadn't laughed… she hadn't breathed a word or moved an inch. She just sat there, her head in her hands, gazing down at her flat, muscular stomach.

'She can't be pregnant,' Eric continued to rail, 'she was careful. She's got this hormone doodad. In her arm…'

'The arm that she turned into a wing every other night for months and months,' Presto added, softly. 'Diana, you knew what would happen when you started using those beads. You knew it would make you not completely human. It's a miracle that a medical device fitted for you back on Earth lasted as long as it did here…'

'Why didn't you warn us?' Eric snapped. Some Dungeon Master…'

'Eric, I kind of expected you guys to know the deal about magical metamorphosis and safe sex,' replied Presto, matching Eric's tone. 'You're not kids, you're not new to this place. You remember what DM-ing's like - I've got more on my plate than your sex life, you know!'

Eric glared at his friend for a moment, before sighing resignedly. 'I guess. We shoulda known. Shoulda thought.'

The Acrobat still appeared to be in shock. Presto put a hand on her shoulder, gently. 'Diana? Say something.'

'How…' Diana stammered, very faintly. 'How pregnant _am_ I…?'

'I'm no expert, Miss,' piped Charles Montgomery, 'but I'm pretty sure that you're either pregnant or you're not. I don't think it happens by increments.'

'That's not what she meant,' Eric growled at his father.

'Seven weeks,' Presto told her, quietly. 'So, you're not due for a good eight months or so, although you'll probably feel like crud for a good while longer, and then I'm afraid you're gonna start to swell.' He paused. 'Unless…'

'Unless…?' Eric echoed, forebodingly.

'You have choices,' announced Uni, watching the scene from a distance with Sheila.

Diana looked up. 'Even here?'

'Of course.'

'I can't do it,' Presto added. 'It's not a DM's place. But if you decide… you know… we can find somebody. The decision's in your hands, Diana.'

'No,' replied Charles, loudly, 'It's _their_ decision. You can't just let her have the only say, that's not fair!'

'It's _her_ body,' huffed Uni.

'It's _his_ kid!'

'Stop!' Sheila blurted. 'Wait, woah there. Are we… are we talking about _abortion_?' She gazed at Diana, horrified. 'Diana, you wouldn't seriously consider… I mean, I know it's not planned and all, but you can't just… it's not like you're alone or anything. I mean, _I'll_ help look after him, for a start…'

'It's a baby, Sheila,' replied Presto, 'not a puppy.'

'Exactly!' Sheila cried.

Diana curled her hands further over her head, miserably.

'This isn't up to you, Sheila,' Presto reminded the Thief, patiently. 'It's up to Diana.'

'And Eric!' Charles yelled. 'Jesus, Son, are you thinking of growing a pair and stepping in any time soon?'

'Shut up, Dad,' Eric breathed.

'Same old Eric,' growled Charles. 'Poor kid's probably better off not being born if its father can't even be man enough to take the responsibility over deciding whether it lives or dies…'

'I said,' hissed Eric, dangerously, 'shut the fuck up.'

'Language!'

'Don't you fucking well "language" me. Don't you dare.' He stood over his seated father, his fists bunched. 'You want me to be a man about this? You want me to be decisive?'

'It'd make a nice change.'

'Fine,' Eric seethed. 'Here's my decision. Here's my edict. I decree that Diana is right. Whatever choice she makes, she makes it with my complete support. We've gotten ourselves into this pickle together, and that's the way we're gonna get out of it. Whether this pregnancy ends tomorrow in a Wise Woman's shack, or in eight months time amongst tearing loins, etcetera, I'll be holding her hand throughout.' He glared at the others. 'God knows, either will be scary as fuck as it is without adding not knowing we're all on her side to the mix.'

Charles shook his head. 'Oh, excellent transferral of responsibility, Kiddo.' He pointed at the foetal Acrobat's hunched belly. 'That is your child, must I remind you?'

'No, Dad. That's my woman, and I love her. We both made a mistake, but that doesn't turn her into a fucking incubator!'

'And you are not just a sperm donor!'

'I have made up my mind, Dad. I am going to let Diana have the last word in how she gets to live her life. I am going to let her be Diana, and not just my child's mother. I am not going to stifle her and make every decision for her and make her utterly despise me like you did to Mom!'

Charles rose to his feet. 'Don't bring your mother and me into this! Celia's got her problems all right, but that is nothing to do with…'

'She hated us, Dad! Both of us. She never wanted to be a wife and mother, and in the end she walked out. She didn't even say Goodbye. I don't ever, _ever_ want any child of mine to feel how much that smarts, to know his own mother regrets ever having him.'

'Diana might end up regretting having an abortion just as much…' Sheila began.

'Jesus, Sheila, did I say I was gonna force her to have an abortion either? All I'm saying is, if she _does_, then I'll…'

'I'm keeping it,' came a small voice from under Diana's arms.

'Huh?'

'I'm going through with the pregnancy.' Diana raised her head and looked at Eric, seriously.

Eric let out an immense sigh of relief, clasping his latticed hands over his head. 'Oh, thank God.'

'You happy about that?'

Eric rubbed his face with another sigh. 'Well, of course I am. The timing sucks, but that's not the brat's fault.' He sat down next to Diana. 'Are _you_ OK?'

Diana smiled, weakly. 'Do I look OK, dummy?'

'Eric…?' asked Charles from above them.

Diana took Eric's hand. 'It's just gonna take some getting used to. A _lot_ of getting used to…'

'Eric…?'

'Well,' Eric replied, 'it's not like we don't have the best part of a year to get used to it in. We'll get through this together, OK?'

'Eric!'

Eric snapped his head up to address his father. 'What?!'

Charles held his right hand up for the group to see. It looked emptier than usual.

'My finger just fell off,' the Zombie complained. 'Is that good, or bad, or what?'

-x-

Having located the errant digit amongst some patchy bracken, and used a fairly simple spell to reattach it to Mr Montgomery's knuckle, Presto began leading the group Westward again, into thicker forest. It was amazing how quickly the spark of optimism had ignited within him again. Only a few hours ago, they had been chased out of their home by their mortal enemy, left stranded and shivering in the middle of nowhere with only a sardonic Zombie for company. Now, they had a purpose, they had direction. Suddenly, there were voices on the breeze – voices that had been hidden from him for so long, that he still didn't dare dream too hard were genuine. Presto couldn't quite focus on them still, but he felt… he felt _something_. He felt new hope. Perhaps that was all it was – hope – but for the time being it was enough to keep him going. Eric and Diana were trailing, arm in arm. Apart from their occasional quiet enquiries as to whether the other was 'OK', and the other partner's sotto voce lies that they were fine and dandy, they still seemed to be at a loss for words. Sheila and Uni walked a little ahead of them, similarly hushed. The late Charles Montgomery stayed at Presto's side as they walked, watching his hands with distrust and confusion.

'Are you sure it'll stay on?' he asked Presto again.

'For the time being,' Presto replied.

'Now, you see, I really don't like the sound of that "time being". Buzz saw accidents aside, fingers should really stay on one's hand indefinitely, wouldn't you say?'

'It's actually a very good sign, Mr Montgomery,' Presto told the dead man. 'Bits are supposed to drop offa you when you've been dead nearly a year. It's natural.'

'You mean…' Charles stared at his hand again. 'You mean, I'm going back to just being dead?'

'You _were_,' Presto corrected him. 'Just for a moment. The spell's reasserted itself now, though.'

'Great. So we're no further forward in the whole not-staying-a-Zombie-forever thing.'

'Not quite,' Presto replied. 'If we can work out what it was that caused you to decompose that little bit, we may well have the solution.' He paused. 'Do you think it might have something to do with Eric and the baby?'

'What are you asking me for?' Mr Montgomery sighed. 'I thought _you_ were supposed to be the big wizard.'

'I'm just trying to help,' Presto muttered. 'Something must have happened at that moment to make you feel a little more at peace with being dead…'

'Oh well, my 22 year old, homeless, unmarried son knocking his girlfriend of a few months up is just _bound_ to fill me with inner peace…'

The Zombie trailed off. Recalling all of the times when Eric's retorts had simply been attempts to get reactions or cues for further sarcasm, Presto held his tongue. A long, deep silence fell as they walked.

After a good ten minutes, the lull was broken by Eric, turning to Diana as though suddenly hit with a realisation. 'You're gonna a _parent_.'

'So are you.'

'I mean,' Eric added, amazed, 'someday soon, some kid's gonna get a bad dream, or scrape their knee, and run to _you_, and need _you_ to make it all better.'

'Don't forget about pestering _you_ to play catch in the yard and read him a bedtime story.'

'Hmm.' Eric frowned. 'Well, I think I can handle the story, at least. You might have to teach me to catch a ball in the meantime.'

Sheila looked over her shoulder at them. 'Hey. Are we getting over the shock now? Are we starting to get excited about it?'

Diana prodded her belly again. 'Can't really say.'

'Well,' Sheila added, impatiently, 'do you mind if _I _get excited? I've been pretending to be all quiet and concerned for hours now, it's killing me!'

Diana smiled a little. 'Go nuts.'

Sheila beamed and bounced up and down as she walked. 'You're having a baby! You're having a baby!'

Eric leaned in to Diana. 'What have we done?' He whispered. 'We've released the Oestrogen Monster.'

'Babiesbabiesbabiesbabiesbabies!!'

'Presto,' called Uni as Sheila gave the Unicorn's neck a tight, excited hug, 'I'm frightened.'

'Oh, you know what? I really, really hope we get back to Earth before your Baby Shower, because a couple of years ago I saw the cutest little jersey in this shop, and I know it sounds weird, but you know what I thought when I saw it? I thought "if Eric and Diana ever end up getting together and having children, that jersey would just look perfect on their baby".'

'Seriously,' Uni pleaded, 'does anybody want to swap walking partners?'

'I mean, I can remember really precisely what it looked like, so if we don't get back, or we do and the shop doesn't have any more of those jerseys I can always knit one for you… although that would mean I'd have to learn to knit. Does anybody know how to knit…?'

'Sheila,' warned Presto, 'shush.'

'What? Oh come on, I'm just excited, is all…'

'I mean it. Everyone.' The sudden look of concern on Presto's face brought the group to a silent stop.

'What's going on?' Charles murmured, only to be hushed by his son.

'Presto?' Diana breathed. 'Something's coming, isn't it?'

Presto squinted around at the nearby undergrowth. It was quiet. Too quiet.

'No,' Uni whispered, taking a nervous step back. 'It's already here.'

There was a moment in which the whole world seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was the magical hum of the remaining Young Ones readying their weapons.

Then there was a blood curdling squeal, and the overgrown thicket started to spew forth Orcs.

'Jesus!' Charles cried, backstepping a little 'what the Hell are those things?'

'It's an Ambush,' Presto explained, spheres of magic fizzing in his hands.

'Well, I can see that!'

There were around two-dozen Orcs encircling them by now, all well armed and freshly armoured, and more yet were piling out of the bushes. Sheila had already vanished, and from the state of two Orcs suddenly lying crumpled and twitching on the ground, had gone straight to work. Uni scuffed at the ground a little, her head lowered, picked out a smallish Orc that had foolishly turned side-on to her in order to approach Presto, and charged. Charles was the only one who watched the creature's long, sharp horn find the gap in the Orc's armour and pierce its way into the dark flesh. The others didn't react to the gored Orc's wail any more than Charles would have done to a distant car alarm. Horrified, Charles gazed at his son. Eric was standing tensely in front of Diana, a large golden Shield raised before the both of them. It was odd, Charles hasn't really paid much attention to the weapons his son had been carrying with him ever since they had been transported out of the burning hovel. The Shield seemed to be the most important. There was something special about it – about the way that his son held it. And, while Charles thought about it, he did seem to remember mentions of a Shield during Eric's morphine-induced ramblings and sweat drenched night terrors that had followed his first disappearance and subsequent injury. There were more weapons hanging from Eric's belt, Charles noticed – a broadsword and two knives. They remained sheathed now, however, even in the face of the ambush. It was as if his son only had those more offensive weapons as a last resort… indeed, it seemed to Charles as if they didn't really belong to Eric at all. They were mis-matching and appeared to hang awkwardly from his waist while the unwieldly Shield rested naturally on his raised left forearm. Charles took another step back as Eric bickered with the girl he was shielding, as though they weren't all in mortal danger.

'Stay back, Diana…'

'For God's sake, let me at 'em!' Diana flicked a small, green rod that rested in her hands, causing it to suddenly extend to a good five feet.

'Not in your condition…'

'Don't be such a Dick…'

'I just want to make sure you're safe!'

'Girls and boys?' Presto warned, 'let's stick to fighting the bad guys, shall we?' With that, the young Wizard lashed his hand out towards a knot of Orcs, sending a pulse of magic over them that caused them to collapse to the ground, shrieking in pain.

Charles took another step back as two large Orcs leaped out at his son and the Acrobat, their swords slicing the air. Charles watched as, with his usual pushy arrogance, Eric shoulder-barged Diana behind his Shield, drawing his own sword with a casual flourish as the Orcs' blades hit a wall of humming magical energy that seemed to spring directly from the Shield, surrounding the youngsters in a brief, golden glow. Before the two brutish assailants were able to recover their wherewithal, Eric twisted out of the protective stance, his sword-bearing arm forming a clean, strong arc through the air. The path of the sword barely faltered as it hit the closest Orc's throat, slicing swiftly into the creature's flesh. The thing didn't get the chance to scream. A heartbeat later (or at least, what Charles could adequately remember as being a heartbeat later, since his own had given up the old 'beating' malarkey many months previously, opting instead for a brief, irregular Rhumba, followed by a lengthy, leaden stillness) Eric had kicked the first Orc's body off his sword, and lunged it straight into the second. Unlike its comrade, that second Orc _did_ get the opportunity to scream, and did so momentarily until the Cavalier swung his sword again and silenced the creature forever.

Charles took another step back.

'You asshole,' complained the Acrobat from behind the Shield, 'that big one was _mine_!'

'Plenty more where they came from.'

'And am I gonna get to fight any of them?'

'Hell, no.'

Charles took yet another step back. It was carnage. Utter carnage. No matter how many of those beasts his son's friends were able to off, more just kept on coming. Clamouring, vile brutes, like… well, like zombies, Charles supposed. His son needed help. Wasn't that why he'd been called? He needed to do something. He had to do something. He _wanted_ to do something. He resolved himself, straightened his spine, puffed out his chest, clenched his fists and took a step forward.

Unfortunately, that was the moment that his right leg decided to drop off. The rest of him lost his balance and toppled noisily to the ground.

Eric turned. 'Dad?'

So did Presto. 'Mr Montgomery…? What hap…'

'For God's sakes!' Charles cried, 'the battle! Eyes on the fight, kids, I'm fine. I'm… watch out!'

There was another Orc, too close to Eric, much too close, a mace raised in its doughy fist, sailing towards the back of his son's unprotected head. Everything seemed to slow down to a tenth of its normal speed for Charles as he witnessed the mace's progression. Diana was already ducking towards the attacker, her long javelin swinging around behind her, but not only was she not going to make it in time, but another Orc was lunging towards her with a knife as well. Presto was half turned towards the fray, a sphere of magic growing in his hands, but he too would never make it on time. And then, as if matters weren't bad enough already, there were the arrows – three stubby crossbow bolts flying towards them. It was no use. Either the mace, or an arrow, or both were bound to strike Eric. This was it. He was going to witness his only child's gruesome murder. Oh God, Eric…

But the crossbow bolts didn't hit Eric, or his friends. The bolts ploughed instead into the bodies of the Orcs that were attacking them, killing them instantly with an expert precision. The attackers fell clumsily, their weapons harmlessly striking the ground.

Eric barely had chance to loudly demand 'What in the Hell was th…' before more crossbow bolts filled the air, as well as bursts of magic energy. A small group of humans burst from a dense knot of trees and charged towards the hoard of Orcs. Scattered now between the two groups, and with their numbers diminishing under the barrage of Unicorn horn, blade, magic and arrow, the Orcs appeared bewildered but still attempted to fight on… until, that was, one final figure stepped from the trees, magic pooling around his fingertips… the winged man who had appeared to Charles' group after the fire. Venger, wasn't that his name…? At his arrival, one Orc decorated with what seemed to be Officer's apparel raised his sword, alerting the remaining Orcs to stop fighting and regroup in a tight, defensive knot between the two groups of humans.

'The Seven,' grunted one Orc, 'we have the chance of taking The Seven…'

'Like Hell, you've got a chance,' Diana spat loudly, indicating to the twenty-odd Orc corpses scattered around the ambush site.

'We know their whereabouts,' hissed the apparent Captain, 'and that they have allies now. Furnus will reward us for this information.' The Captain raised its sword again. 'Retrea…'

Its cry was cut off by a large burst of golden energy that slammed into its belly, throwing the Captain violently off its feet and into two comrades. For some reason, this sent a strange sigh across the whole of Eric's group – even the Unicorn reacted with the same murmur of surprise and hopeful recognition. From his undignified position, Charles looked up at the other group. An old woman and a petite redhead kept back with Venger while a woman in oddly shaped armour, holding a crossbow, a middle aged man and a young woman, both with swords, and a young man with a bandaged head and a longbow ran forwards. For a second, all the eyes of the newcomers were on the injured young archer.

'We can't risk them telling Furnus,' the archer told his group. 'Finish them.'

'Oh my God.' The young woman's voice was quiet and flat with shock, but it still made Charles jump. It was coming from right by his side, even though he could see nobody there. The space that the voice had spoken from hummed, and shifted a little, and suddenly little Sheila O'Brien was next to him, her fingers clutching the hood of her cape.

'Oh my God,' she repeated, as the last of the fleeing Orcs was downed by the armoured woman's crossbow. 'Hank.'


	6. Chapter 6

FAMILY REUNION

-x-

Six

-x-

'Hank…'

The name rippled around the group in a hush as each youngster recognised the injured archer. The voices of Eric and his friends matched Sheila's tone of quiet shock, with airs of worry over his changed appearance, as well as the relief of finding someone believed for so long to be lost. As Charles pulled himself with difficulty to something approximating a sitting position, he noticed that the young Wizard alone remained silent, watching the approaching archer with a motionless expression of concern. Charles looked back at the bandaged young man. That couldn't be Van Walwyck, could it…? Mind you, that kid _was_ certainly prone to sudden, intense changes of appearance and demeanour. He remembered the few times that he had seen Hank turn up at his house to visit Eric during College vacations – to get up to no good, Charles had had no doubt – he remembered then how shocking the difference between that scruffy, shambling, red eyed bum and the clean-cut Quarterback that had suddenly, incomprehensibly formed a bond with Eric after the Amusement Park Incident had been. If this was indeed Hank Van Walwyk, then the young man had evidently undergone yet another sea-change, for this person stood tall, in spite of a slight limp to his walk, with broad, set shoulders and not an ounce of flesh that had not been turned to muscle through months of physical toil. This person was alert and quick in his movements. This person was not a bright-eyed boy, nor a sullen youth – this person was a Man.

The archer walked slowly towards them, leaving the group he was with to hang behind. What was left unbandaged of the young man's face was a picture of grim resolve and apprehension. He appeared to be looking straight at Charles, brushing a couple of tears away from his good eye as he did so. It was only when Sheila called Hank's name again - louder and more urgent this time – and pushed in front of the zombie that Charles realised who Hank was really staring at.

'Sheila,' replied the archer in a cracked, quiet voice. He took a couple of running steps towards her, then faltered, unsure. 'I'm so sorry, Sheila. I'm so, so very sor…'

Sheila ran into him, flinging her arms tight around him, shuddering with sobs.

'I thought…' the redhead managed through her tearful gasps, 'I thought you…'

'I'm so sorry,' repeated Hank, quietly. 'Could you ever forgive me, Sheila?'

Sheila didn't answer – couldn't answer, since she was crying so hard.

'Long time no see, Hank,' announced Eric, as the other youngsters approached the tearful pair.

Hank managed a slight laugh, still wiping tears from his face. 'Never thought I'd be so glad to hear your voice again, Ol' Cavalier…'

'Ya just took off,' interrupted Eric, severely. 'You turned on us, you dumped us in the shit and then you just… took off. You didn't think we'd need you?'

'To be honest,' sighed Hank, 'no. I was useless. Worse than useless…'

Eric snorted, contemptuously.

Diana took the opportunity to but in. 'So where've you been, all this time?'

'I've been getting better, Diana,' Hank told her, 'like I said I would.'

'Oh yeah,' grunted Eric, 'because you're looking in just tip-top condition there with your face hanging off, Hanky-boy.'

'It's from the fall,' Hank replied, levelly, 'an infection. It's not as bad as it looks.' He paused for a second. 'But I did lose an eye.'

That shut Eric up. He and Diana watched Hank with silent, sad surprise. The only vocal response any of the group gave to the news of Hank's maiming was a horrified gulp from Sheila as she brushed her fingers gently over the bandage.

'Plenty of people have lost worse,' continued Hank, as though reciting much-rehearsed lines. 'I'll be fine, really I will… thanks to them.' He indicated over at the other group, still waiting a short distance away.

As the youngsters turned to look at the other party, it was Presto who really caught Charles' attention. The Wizard had a peculiar look on his face, as though he was trying to read a vitally important message hidden within an eye test chart.

'Why are you hiding?' called Presto to the other group.

'We are not hiding,' called the middle aged man of the group, which was indeed standing in plain view.

The old woman next to the man who had just spoken nudged him. 'Enough of these games. He knows who we are.' She turned to face the Wizard. 'Don't you, Presto?'

Presto nodded. 'Most of you.'

'Well,' added the middle aged man with a grin, 'are you not glad to see us?'

'But I _don't_ see you,' Presto replied. 'That's what's bothering me.'

'Presto,' snapped Eric, 'what have I told you about speaking in riddles?'

'It's OK, Eric,' placated Hank.

'Well, would somebody _please_ just tell us what's going on?!'

The other group turned to look at one of their members – a slim, fragile looking young woman who had, it seemed, been trying to conceal herself at the back of the knot of people. Indeed, Venger had to take several sidesteps in order to get her out of his large shadow.

'The time has come,' the demon told her, gently.

The young woman hung her head, distressed and, it appeared, ashamed.

'Let it go, dear.' The old woman took her hand. 'We all have to face up to who we are.'

The young woman sighed, and suddenly, Charles could truly see them… not that he couldn't see them previously as such, but it was as though a distorting layer that he hadn't even been aware of before had been lifted from them. They became somehow… "less generic" was the only term he could think of that came close to describing it.

The youngsters gaped at the other group.

Eric was the first to cry out.

'Ramhoud?'

'Zandora!' added Diana, equally surprised and happy.

Sheila turned briefly from Hank, still wiping her eyes. 'Is that Ayeisha?'

Charles grumbled quietly to himself, picking up his fallen leg, that he wished he had the slightest idea who any of these people were. Then, after a couple of frustrated attempts at jabbing the forlorn limb back into place, changed his wish to one for magical appendage reattachment.

'Told you I'd bring reinforcements,' shrugged Hank with yet more rehearsed nonchalance.

Diana's expression changed suddenly as she looked directly at the frail young woman still sheltering a little behind Venger. 'Wait. Woah. Is that who I think it is?'

The fragile woman looked as though she wanted the ground to swallow her up.

'Aren't you supposed to be dead?' spat a well-spoken voice from close by to Charles. He glanced over his shoulder with a vacant 'Hmm?' – only to realise that the furious Unicorn was not, in fact, talking to him, but to the embarrassed woman.

'It appears,' muttered the woman, 'that the Ranger is not the only one who owes all of you profuse apologies.'

All the eyes of the youngsters seemed to turn as one to the still silent Wizard. The poor guy looked the way Charles felt, the Zombie mused. Presto was paler than ever, and swaying slightly, with a vacant look, like how Eric had been the first and only time he'd gone out on the yacht.

'Poor Presto,' muttered Sheila.

Suddenly, the fragile woman broke from her group's huddle, and hurried towards the Wizard. It was Charles' son who intercepted her.

'No way, Missy,' snapped the Cavalier, 'you have got _some_ nerve, you know that, Varla?'

'But…' attempted Varla.

'Eric…' added Presto, quietly.

'You broke that kid's heart,' Eric continued, 'tried to sell us all to Furnus, then you… what? Did you fake your death? Is that how you explain this?'

'Eric,' repeated Presto, a little more forcefully this time.

'And now you just wanna collapse into his arms and make everything OK again? Where the fuck do you get off, sister?'

'Eric! Stop fussing.' Presto blinked up at Eric, as though coming out of a deep meditative trance.

'But I…'

'I see now,' Presto announced, gazing flatly at Varla. 'I see it all. I see what you did. And why.'

'Yeah, he's good like that,' interjected Eric before Varla could get a word in edgeways.

'You are always offering me second chances,' Varla told presto quietly, trying to step around the interfering Cavalier. 'When we first met, and you freed me from Venger…'

Charles glanced briefly over to Venger, who was suddenly rather interested in his own boots.

'And then again,' Varla continued, even after I had betrayed you all, you offered me sanctuary still.'

'You _did_?' asked Eric of his friend, although his exclamation was ignored.

'I come to you now,' Varla went on, 'and ask you for yet another chance. I'll understand if you think it's too much to ask…'

'What else would I do? Turn you over to our enemies?' Presto placed a restrained hand on her shoulder. 'I'm very glad that you're still alive, Varla.'

'You're just _forgiving_ her?' Eric snapped, 'after all she did to you?'

'You understand forgiveness, Eric,' muttered Presto. 'If you can do it, so can I.'

Eric scowled for a moment, then span on his heel away from the pair, flinging his hands into the air in exasperation. 'Goddammit, why do I have to be such a terrific, caring, understanding example to all?'

Varla breathed Presto's name, and drew close into him for an embrace, but Presto pushed the young woman away and held her at arm's length, incapable of meeting her eye.

'Presto…?' repeated Varla, worried.

'I forgive you for what you did, Varla,' Presto told her, flatly. 'But…'

'…but you can't forget,' concluded Varla.

Presto shook his head, sadly. He patted Varla's bright hair. 'Keep yourself hidden, Varla.' He looked up at the other group. 'All of you. Keep yourselves safe. The old DM knew what he was doing when he delivered you from…' Presto's gaze suddenly fell on the other unnamed woman in the group of newcomers – the sad, middle aged woman with a frizz of ginger hair and oddly rotund silver armour.

'Oh,' the Wizard exclaimed. 'It's you.'

'Isn't that Lilac?' noted Diana, close by to Presto. 'The woman Bob was… y'know…' she trailed off a little. 'Hey… um… doesn't she look kinda… different to you guys?'

'You were supposed to stay at the manor house,' Presto told her, a little piqued.

'Where's Bob?' Was Lilac's only reply.

Charles notice Hank take Sheila's hands seriously, as though he had devastating news for her, but Sheila's eyes were already alight with too much excitement at the name of the oddly-armoured woman to pay him any notice.

'Lilac? You found Lilac?'

'She sorta found _me_…' Hank admitted. 'Sheila, there's something you and Bob really aughtta…'

'Has she had the baby yet?' Sheila interrupted. 'Am I an Aunt?'

'An _Aunt_?' echoed Eric, Diana and the Unicorn, incredulously.

Hank dropped her hands, confused. 'You know about that? How do you know?'

'It's a long story,' Sheila replied. She approached Lilac, with a gentle smile. 'It's OK, Lilac. I know what happened…'

'Where's Bob?' Lilac repeated.

Hank scanned the group. 'Hey. Where _is_ Bob?'

'I think,' murmured the Unicorn to Presto, 'everybody could do with a nice sit-down, a cup of tea and a very long chat.'

'Woah.' Hank froze, his finger pointed at the Unicorn, his eyes like saucers. 'What the… did Uni just _talk_?'

The Unicorn approximated a nonchalant shrug as best a quadraped could manage.

'Boy,' breathed Hank, looking about the group again, 'I sure missed out on a lot of… AUGH!'

Charles looked up from his further attempts to get his leg back into its socket, to see that Hank was looking directly at him, pale with horror.

'It's a Zombie!' The young man fumbled with his stringless Bow. 'It's a Zombie! Everybody stay calm…'

'It's a pleasure to see you again too, Henry,' muttered Charles from the ground.

Hank blinked in recognition. 'Mister Montgomery…?' He blinked from Charles to Eric and back again. 'What's going on?'

'I think Uni had it right first off,' interrupted Presto. 'I think we all need a good, long chat. We've got a _lot_ of catching up to do.'


	7. Chapter 7

FAMILY REUNION

-x-

Seven

-x-

Eric didn't stay for the "chat". To be perfectly honest with himself, all he wanted to do was to drag Diana away from the bothersome noise of everybody else and sit quietly with her, saying nothing, doing nothing – just laying a protective shield around the woman and the microscopic child in her belly. Unfortunately for him, she had grown weary of his over-protective demeanour very quickly, and was busying herself with making loud small talk with any member of the now fairly large group who would engage with her. He had muttered something about checking the perimeter of their camping grounds and had ambled off.

Diana was pregnant. She was _pregnant_. He was going to be a _father_.

Father…

Father.

He sighed, reminded of his own father's continued, unnatural presence. It was funny how, after all that thought following his Dad's sudden death – all those fantasies about what he'd say to him if he had the chance, how he'd do things differently – that now he was faced with his Old Man again, things had slipped back to exactly as they'd always been. His dad was still the overbearing ass he'd always been, and Eric… Eric couldn't help but feel that he was falling back into his old snivelly, sardonic ways. After all that growth he thought he'd gone through, seemed like all it really took was for Hank to come back on form and one of his Godammed parents to intervene, and he was right back where he started. And what kind of place was that for anyone to be, let alone some kid's father?

He scowled and folded his arms, kicking sullenly at a toadstool, leaping back a little in surprise as the fungus hissed at him, sprouted six spindly legs and scurried off.

He found his thoughts drifting to that little newborn that the frizzy haired woman (…what was her name again… Lilac…?) had brought out for Sheila to coo over. At least he wasn't gonna be the first accidental Daddy out of the group… he stopped himself, noting the smirk that had crept involuntarily over his face, and mentally chastising himself for it. Poor Bobby, he reminded himself. He'd knocked this stranger up in a one-night stand, and it seemed as though he didn't even know about it yet. The kid was only seventeen, for God's sake.

_Where_ was Bobby? Whether it was this baby's sudden arrival, or Hank's, or Ramhoud's (Ramhoud! Alive, after all, thank God, thank God!), or that the announcement of his own imminent parenthood had brought out a certain paternal element in the Cavalier, he didn't know, but Eric found himself hit with an acute need to find the Barbarian again. Maybe it was just that the time had come for The Seven to be reunited. He couldn't be sure.

He turned back towards the campsite, surveying the group. His dead father appeared to be chatting with Zandora and Ramhoud, which, he supposed, made a nice change from pestering Diana. Sheila was still fussing over her niece as the baby's mother sat next to her with a downhearted expression. Diana – thankfully looking a little less green around the gills than she had before - was ignoring the baby and making forced chit-chat with Ayeisha. Venger, it appeared, had gone off on some unknown errand on his own again. The lean, bandaged Ranger was deep in serious conversation with Presto, shooting Uni bewildered glances every now and again. Varla was sitting alone, staring into the middle distance miserably, her arms wrapped around her knees.

All in all, considered Eric, it had been a bitch of a day.

He couldn't help but zone in on his Dad's conversation as he approached – both Charles Montgomery and Ramhoud had voices that carried, and Zandora had to speak up in order to be heard over the two men.

'…some sort of spell that misfired, so they tell me,' Charles was complaining.

'Necromancy spell?' Zandora asked.

'That sounds like the one,' replied Charles, 'yeah.'

Zandora shook her head in sympathy. 'Nasty. Death is not what it used to be. How is your leg?'

Charles gave his reattached leg an exploratory rattle. 'Still loose.'

'It's the best I can do, I'm afraid. You _are_ Undead, after all.'

'Yeah, yeah, yeah,' grumbled Charles. 'It's to be expected, it's actually a good sign, blah blah. The kid's already gone through all of this with me. It doesn't make me any happier about the whole stupid situation…'

'There is a legend that this happened to once to one of my ancestors,' Ramhoud interrupted. 'The land was under attack, a Mage cast a spell to protect the land, and up jumped the dead king. Such was his devotion to defending his country that even death could not keep him from his duty.'

Eric stopped, close by to Ramhoud. 'So what happened to him?'

'He saw that, during his life, he had made his people strong and healthy, had created enough wealth to arm them well, and enough time to educate and train themselves. He saw that they were fit to defend themselves without him.' Ramhoud shrugged. 'So he went back happily to his tomb. He was not needed any more.'

'Huh,' muttered Eric, thoughtfully.

Charles looked up at his son, peevishly. 'It's just a fairy tale, Eric.'

Eric rolled his eyes and stalked away without another word to his father. Turning from the older members of the camp, he found himself instead at the periphery of Hank and Presto's conversation. Evidently, Presto had just hit Hank with yet another bombshell.

'The Dungeon Master?' Hank whispered. 'Since... since when…?'

'Since the old one died,' Presto replied.

'So it was you… all along, it was you…' Hank sighed. 'That's how come Eric worked it out. My God. I was so close.' He shook his head. 'If I hadn't been stopped in time…'

Eric folded his arms 'Well, Deadeye, I got about a dozen war wounds that say you _weren't_.'

'Eric.' Hank met Eric's gaze for a moment, then dropped his line of vision down to his feet. 'I tortured you.'

'No shit, Colombo.'

'Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?'

'Do you think I'd be giving you hilarious nicknames if I couldn't, One Eyed Willie?'

Hank bit his lip, gratefully. 'How many of them have you managed to think up so far?'

''Bout twenty… twenty-five,' estimated Eric. 'Gimme 'til tomorrow and I should have around a hundred for ya. And believe me, you are going to find every single one of them _intensely_ annoying. Don't think you're off the hook yet, Horatio. You still got a helluva lot more crawling to do.'

Hank gave a slight smile. 'Thank you.'

Eric shrugged, with a particularly Ericky feigned casualness. 'Don't sweat it, Cyclops.'

He turned away from them, taking a deep, calming breath, and congratulating himself internally for not doing or saying to Hank any of the thousand terrible things he'd cooked up in vengeful daydreams during the months following the Ranger's departure. He scuffed at the ground a little, and wandered closer to Sheila, Lilac and the baby – not that Sheila making "choochy-choo" noises at the bewildered newborn and Lilac intermittently wondering aloud where Bobby might be exactly made interesting listening. He tried sidling up to Diana and Ayeisha instead, putting a hand on the Acrobat's shoulder.

'So, how's about Bobby Junior, huh?'

Diana glanced up at him. 'Do you mind? We happen to be in the middle of a conversation…'

'Yeah, right. You're just loudly ignoring any of the serious shit today's thrown at you, is all.'

Ayeisha shot Diana an amused grin. 'He hasn't changed, has he? And you say the Cavalier is your Intended now…?'

'Only if that Intention is to royally piss me off,' Diana replied, before addressing Eric. 'How dare you? Don't you "yeah, right" me, Mister!'

'Are you feeling a little less sick now?' Eric asked, over her. 'You're looking better. And Ayeisha…' he extended a courteous hand. 'I don't believe we've said "hello" yet…'

Ayeisha shook Eric's hand, but turned her head to face Diana. 'Why have you been sick…?'

'God dammit, Cavalier…'

'What?' Eric grinned. 'You haven't shared the happy news with our new found friends yet? Diana, that's just _rude_.'

'What?' asked Ayeisha, eagerly.

Before Diana could irritably respond, there was a loud, deep rumble from beneath the ground. The party scrambled to their feet as their campsite shook.

'What is it?' various members of the group asked Presto.

'It's just an Earthquake,' hoped Eric, aloud, 'right, Presto…?'

Presto met eyes with Zandora, horrified. 'We have to go.'

'What's wrong?' Ayeisha demanded.

'It can't be Furnus,' Sheila added, automatically pulling the baby close to her for protection, 'we haven't got any fire burning, so she can't find us… right…?'

Presto didn't get the chance to answer one way or another. There was a deafening crack, and a great shard of rock sprung suddenly from the ground like a knife stabbing upwards at the sky. All around it the ground began to split, and the group had to scurry frantically away from the various growing fissures. The spike of rock continued to shoot upwards, until it had reached the height of a four-storey building. There was another crack, from above them this time, and a great fork of lightning split the air, smashing into the point of the rock outcrop. The lightning didn't dissipate as soon as it touched the rock as it should have done, however, but hung in the air, a crackling, jagged line of raw electricity reaching up into the heavens.

'Yep,' cried Eric, above the shocked shrieks of the party and the terrified wails of the newborn in Sheila's arms, 'I'm pretty certain that's not supposed to happen.'

-x-

'What is it?' Hank gasped.

'A gateway,' was Presto's only attempt at an explanation. 'Use your Bow to bridge that fissure,' the Wizard ordered, pointing at a large split in the ground which separated Sheila, the baby, Eric, Diana and Charles from the others, 'then we're getting out of here.'

'Something's coming,' added Ayeisha, 'isn't it? Whatever it is, we can fight it!'

'We need to find Bobby.'

'He is just one person,' Ayeisha replied. 'There is already a dozen of us. What difference would he make?'

'Without him,' Presto answered, 'we're incomplete. What's coming now is something that we have to face together.'

Hank, at the edge of the fissure, turned back towards Presto. 'Why? What's coming?'

Presto gazed back at him with those windowed eyes – eyes once youthful and nervous, now inscrutable and timeless. 'The end,' Presto told him. 'The end is coming.'

There was something about the tone of Presto's voice that was even more dreadful than the giant lightning rod that had splintered up out of the ground. Hank gulped. 'As in, Armageddon…?'

'As in "Arma-geddon-outta-here",' Presto replied. He allowed Hank the briefest echo of one of the old Magician's lopsided smile before becoming deadly serious again. 'The chasm, Hank. Hurry.'

Hank turned back to the group on the other side of the fissure. Sheila, still clutching the child, was shouting something to him frantically, but above the cacophony of the crackling lightning, the rumbling ground and the voices of the others, he found it hard to make out what she was calling. It wasn't until he raised his bow that he heard her clearly.

'I can't find Lilac!'

Hank lowered his Bow again and looked round at his side of the destroyed camp. Indeed, Lilac was nowhere to be found.

'What is it?' Zandora asked.

'Lilac's gone missing. We can't leave without her.'

Presto started hurrying towards Hank. 'We have to. Just get the others and we'll go.'

'But Bluebell needs her Mom…'

'That can't be helped.' Presto reached Hank at the edge of the chasm and lightly touched his shoulder. 'Look down.'

Hank did as he was told. Following his lead, Sheila, on the other side, peered down into the chasm as well. Hank caught sight of the smear of red running down the fissure's wall, and the unmoving, mangled mess of silver armour, skin and blood on a ledge deep inside the rift. Sheila's cry confirmed that his eye wasn't playing tricks on him.

'The chasm opened up under her feet,' Presto explained. 'She was gone in an instant, she didn't even get chance to scream.'

'Why didn't you say?' Hank asked over the horrified gasps of the others as they all crowded to see what had happened.

'Because we don't have time,' Presto replied, addressing the others. 'We don't have time for any of this. We can grieve later. We have got to go!'

There was a new sound – a great squalking of what sounded like thousands of birds - coming from high above, but swiftly drawing closer. Hank looked up automatically. Indeed, it was a vast flock of birds, of different sizes, shapes and colours, all flying straight down from the clouds, along the line of lightning.

'Birds?' Hank asked Presto. 'What the…?'

'Too late,' Presto breathed. 'We'll never all get away in time.' He turned back to Hank, beckoning Uni closer to him as he did so. 'Cross the fissure, Hank. Lead the others away, as fast as you can. Don't look back. I'll stay with these guys, try to close up this portal, or at least buy you some time.' He patted the Unicorn's neck. 'Uni, you go with him. Find Bobby. I'll join you as soon as I can. Now go!'

Hank turned back to the fissure and swiftly shot an energy bolt across the crack, creating a temporary bridge.

'But where do we go?' Uni asked.

'You need to go right back to the beginning, Uni. Right back. Go!'

Uni nodded in understanding, took a brief run-up, then leapt over the fissure in a graceful bound. By the time she'd landed on the other side, Hank had already grabbed Sheila's arm and forced her to start running away from the terrible spike of rock. Diana was pulling a faintly protesting Eric along with her. Charles appeared to need no encouragement to flee, but his loose leg was causing him to limp. Uni ducked her head under the Zombie's arm, taking his weight, and broke into a gallop to catch up with the rest of the group.

-x-

Presto shook his sleeves away from his hands and concentrated on the jagged line. He held his hands outstretched, pooling the magical energy within him.

'Come on,' he murmured to himself. 'It's just another portal. Just like all the others. You can close this. You can close it.'

'It isn't just another portal,' Varla shouted over the shriek of the approaching birds. 'If only my powers could help you close it…'

Zandora stepped up beside Presto, her own hands outstretched like his. 'Perhaps I can assist…'

Before she could say any more, the mighty flock of giant birds reached them, dive-bombing to mere feet from the ground, then levelling up swiftly, flying now straight for them, at tremendous speed. Ramhoud and Ayeisha had no time with which to draw their weapons before they were knocked from their feet by the rushing flock. For a moment, Presto felt urged to use his magic to stop the creatures, but the same part of him that had so objectively reasoned not to mention Lilac's sudden death unless it was absolutely necessary was now ordering him to put every ounce of his magical strength into closing up the crackling rip in their dimension. Wings and beaks buffeted him but he managed to remain on his feet, his eyes fixed on the line of electricity, his hands outstretched, trying desperately to concentrate his powers into healing the rift.

Something hit him heavily on the side of the head, knocking off his glasses. Almost immediately after, something else barrelled into his stomach, winding him. A third blow finally sent him to his knees. He lost focus… only for a moment, but it was enough. It was too late.

As he replaced his spectacles, he could see that the group of allies had a strange haze around them once more… Varla, it seemed, had taken his advice and disguised them. That was something, he supposed. He could also see that the menagerie of strange, giant, colourful birds had come to rest now that the group were all toppled, and were strutting happily about the ground.

He looked up.

A figure carrying a long spear was pulling itself out of the lightning bolt at the spot where it met the shard of rock. The figure, practically haloed all over with bright light, placed feet upon the edge of the jutting rock and stood, his straight body impossibly parallel with the ground below. Slowly, with a great air of theatre, the lithe, luminous figure strolled straight down the pinnacle of stone, the angle of his body continuing to defy the laws of gravity. Once he had reached the ground, he merely stepped off the rock and was upright. Placing the end of his spear lightly upon the ground, as though it were a walking stick, the elegant, haloed figure continued to walk calmly towards the injured group, stopping inches away from Presto.

The figure looked down and graced Presto with a smile that echoed one of genuine warmth and friendship that Presto had seen a long, long time ago. Presto sighed, inwardly. This was what power could do to a being. This was how even the most valiant and honest could be twisted into something truly wicked. It had happened to Venger. It had almost happened to his friends. And it had happened to this man, as well.

Presto continued to gaze up at the empty smile of the radiant creature in front of him.

_What have you done to yourself_, he silently asked of the man. _What have you become, Kosar?_


	8. Chapter 8

FAMILY REUNION

-x-

Eight

-x-

'What are you doing here?' Kosar asked Presto, still with that dreadful, empty smile.

Presto tried to struggle to his feet, but became a little entangled in his robe.

Kosar continued to speak before Presto could so much as draw breath. 'Surely, you can see that it isn't safe here. Are you lost…?'

Presto frowned with confusion. Was Kosar being sarcastic? He looked to the others in his group. Varla's illusion had made them all appear to be scrawny, muddy farm boys. He looked down at his hands. He could see his own hands – youthful and slim, with the odd fleck around the cuticles of that stupid nail polish he'd been wearing that day they'd fallen back into the Realm and had never been able to pick entirely off – but layered on top of his hands, like a hazy hologram, were the fingers of an old man.

Varla.

She must have disguised him as well.

Kosar cocked his head at Presto. 'I said, are you lost, old man?'

'I…' Presto picked himself up onto his feet, taking care to make his movements look as brittle and weary as possible. 'Some of the Squire's horses bolted last night,' he told Kosar, hoarsely. 'We was lookin' for 'em out here, and then the ground… and the sky…'

'Yes,' replied Kosar, his smile still frozen, 'I'm afraid that was me.'

Presto began to grovel in a way that seemed befitting for a frightened old stable keeper. 'Please don't 'urt us, Sir… We done you no harm…'

'Now, whoever mentioned hurting you?' Kosar's smile didn't waver. 'What you witnessed, old man, was history in the making – the beginning of a new age. I want you and your boys to go home and start spreading the word. The Child of the Stargazer has returned to claim the Realm in the name of the glorious Queen Furnus!'

'Stargazer, Sir?' Presto croaked. 'Furnus, Sir? Aye, Sir. Aye, we'll tell 'em…' He tuned to leave.

'Wait,' snapped Kosar in the tone of one who did not expect lesser beings to excuse themselves from his presence without his expressed permission.

Presto turned to Kosar once more.

Kosar's smile increased in its imitation of warm geniality. 'There are some individuals who I'm looking for,' he told Presto through a tightly clenched jaw, 'rather urgently, as a matter of fact. I believed them to be here.'

'Nobody here but us, Sir,' Presto replied, quickly.

Kosar's expression still didn't change. 'And you didn't see anybody before I arrived…?' He narrowed his eyes at Presto. 'Nobody running away?'

'No, Sir.'

Kosar still squinted into Presto's eyes. Presto blinked, and concentrated hard on being a simple old man who saw nothing and knew nothing.

'Perhaps there were some strange creatures,' Kosar continued, 'flying away.'

'Only strange creatures I saw was them great big birds come down from the sky, Sir.'

'Hmm,' Kosar frowned, his gaze wandering from Presto over to the fissure in the ground. He sniffed, irritably. He froze, and sniffed again – deeper and with more purpose this time.

'Surely not…' Kosar muttered. He sniffed a third time, approaching the fissure. '_Something's_ dead down there…'

Presto glanced desperately at the disguised Varla as Kosar diverted his attention to the crevasse. Presto mouthed "Lilac's body" urgently at Varla, who nodded and closed her eyes in concentration.

Kosar leaned over to look down the crack. He paused, then muttered a disappointed 'Oh' to himself. He turned back to Presto.

'Well,' he sighed, 'I think I've found your Master's horse, at least.' He nodded in the direction of the fissure. 'For all the good it'll do you.'

Presto bowed his head. 'Aye. Thank you, Sir.'

Kosar narrowed his eyes again. 'And you're _sure_ you didn't see anyone else…?' He gazed about himself once more. 'Oh well. The time will come, soon enough.' He clicked his fingers, and the great flock of giant birds hurried to surround him, poised to take off.

'Goodbye, Old Man,' Kosar told him. 'And remember what you have just seen. This is the start of something truly wonderful!'

There was a flurry of wings, and Kosar was lifted up amongst the flock and swiftly flown away. The others got to their feet and stood by Presto as they watched the disappearing birds.

'Almost the same heading as Hank and the others took,' noted Ayeisha.

Presto glanced over his shoulder. The veil of Varla's illusion had been lifted from the group, he noticed. He also noticed that the line of lightning conjoining with the pinnacle of rock was beginning to fizzle away into nothing by itself.

'He won't see them,' Zandora assured the others.

'But he won't be far from them,' Ayeisha countered.

'None of them are,' added Varla, quietly. She nodded in the direction Kosar had gone. 'That's where Furnus is, isn't it? That's where she's collecting her allies… our foes.'

'Yes,' breathed Presto. 'Yes. That's where she is. It's… kinda a Portal hotspot round there… only place powerful enough now to open and maintain a gateway to and from her own world.'

'So,' considered Rahmoud, 'that means many more fire dragons, flaming zombies…'

'And Balefire,' Zandora added, solemnly. 'She'll be able to summon that there, too. If she believes it's worth the risk.'

Varla stared at Presto. 'And you sent your friends there.'

Presto just stared straight ahead. 'Furnus needs to be stopped.'

'But you sent your _friends_ there. With a baby. You didn't even warn th…'

'Furnus needs to be stopped,' Presto reiterated. He sighed, and turned to the others. 'They'll wait for us, somewhere safe. They won't do anything foolish until we rejoin them.'

'And then what?' Rahmoud asked.

Presto turned away again, casting his eye over the length of the fissure. 'Furnus needs to be stopped.'

'We gather that,' replied Ayeisha.

'We'll have to walk around the crevasse,' Presto told the others. 'If we keep a good pace, we shouldn't lose any more than a few hours. We should reach the others by evening.'

'And then what?'

'And then we'll all need a good rest.'

'And _then_ what…?'

Presto just nodded along the fissure. 'This way.'

-x-

Once the line of lightning was in the distance the fleeing group slowed to a walk, much to Charles' relief. He was finally able to let go of the Unicorn's neck and walk at his own pace, only worrying occasionally about how loose and rattley all of his limbs now seemed. Diana, he noticed, was looking rather green again and indeed, after they had all slowed down, she needed to stop for a moment and cough up a mouthful of bile.

'You OK, Diana?' Hank asked, barely out of puff.

Diana grimaced, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 'Ecch. I'll be all right. It comes and goes in waves.'

'You got food poisoning or somethin'?

Eric grinned widely at the bandaged Blond man, with more than a hint of smugness. 'We're having a baby.'

Hank's expression froze. 'You're whatting a what, now?'

The newborn in Sheila's arms began to cry again.

'Yep,' Eric replied with a nod towards the wailing child, 'one of those.'

'One of those,' echoed Diana, faintly.

'Poor little thing,' Sheila muttered, rocking the baby close to her chest. 'She must be terrified, missing her Mom…'

'She must be getting hungry by now, too,' Hank added.

'Oh God,' Sheila breathed. 'She'll need milk. Where are we supposed to get _that_ from?'

'Don't look at me,' Diana answered, hurriedly.

'Or me,' added Uni.

'If only Presto were here,' said Eric. He raised an eyebrow as the others all stared at him. 'I'm not suggesting he… he could get a bottle from the _Hat_, dummies!'

Hank nodded at a few vague shapes on the horizon ahead of them. 'Looks like a village over there. Somebody's bound to have a milking cow or a goat, or… or something. Anything.'

'It might not be safe,' Sheila fretted.

'Babies her age need food every few hours,' Eric reminded her. 'I don't see anywhere else close enough. It's kinda our only option.'

'Who made you the Baby Expert?' Charles asked his son.

Eric shrugged. 'My Fencing instructor had a kid just before my first county championship tournament. She used to bring him in to practice. He used to sleep in his car seat in the corner like a snug little raisin.'

'That's sweet,' Diana smiled.

Charles frowned. 'Your Fencing instructor was a _woman_?'

Eric didn't even acknowledge Charles' comment with anything more than a slight shake of the head.

As the village grew closer, the baby's cries didn't quieten. In fact, her crying had given her the hiccups, which appeared to anger and distress the newborn even further. Sheila tried rocking the child as she walked.

'Please stop crying,' she murmured. 'Please?'

'Let me have a go,' Eric demanded.

'No!' Sheila pulled the child tight to her. 'I'm her aunt.'

'So?' Eric shrugged. 'She might just be bored. Did you think of that?'

'Newborns don't get bored.'

'Eric did,' Charles interjected. '3am, like clockwork, for the first four months. He'd be full, he'd be dry, but still he'd wake up and start whining for no good reason.'

'Sounds like the Eric I know,' Diana smiled, faintly.

'I love you too, Sweetie,' Eric retorted, under his breath.

'So how did you cope, Mr Montgomery?' Sheila asked.

Charles shrugged. 'Hired some girl to sit up and read to him every night.'

'Well, that's a great idea, Dad,' Eric snorted. 'Hand me a phone and I'll ring the Realm's Babysitting service.'

'Well, what were _you_ gonna do for the poor kid, Eric?' Charles retorted. 'Tell her a couple of your knock-knock jokes?'

'Actually,' Eric replied, 'I was thinking something a little less highbrow. This _is_ Bobby O'Brien's child we're talking about, after all.'

'Eric,' scolded Sheila as gently as she could while remaining audible about the baby's cries.

Eric fell behind Sheila so that the baby could see him over Sheila's shoulder.

'Hey,' he addressed the child in a loud stage whisper, 'hey kid. Whaddaya make of this, huh?'

He held his Shield up quickly in front of his face before lowering it slowly to gurn at the baby. The child blinked with a whimper at Eric's strange expression before lowering her gaze to stare at the Shield.

'What's that?' Eric continued. 'I'm too ruggedly handsome for a baby's eyes? You want me to cover up with the Shield again? Well, if you say so…'

He held the weapon up over his face again, shifting its angle slightly so that the reflections on its polished surface danced and glittered. The baby hiccupped and grizzled for a minute or so more before falling completely silent, watching the golden Shield with wide eyes.

'Little kids love their Shiny Things,' Eric explained, 'a fondness that some of us have had the intelligence never to grow out of.'

'She's mesmerised, smiled Sheila. 'I think she might actually fall asleep…'

'Drowsiness isn't necessarily a good sign,' Hank told her. 'We should quicken our pace. Let's try to get to the village within the hour.'

-x-

In fact, it took them less than forty minutes to reach the outskirts of what turned out to be a medium sized, if largely deserted town. A gust of wind pitched down what had probably once been a market street as they walked through it – the wind clattered faded shop signs and banged the unlocked doors of abandoned stables. Charles noticed that his companions shivered in the gust, although he didn't feel cold at all. In fact, he noticed, he didn't really feel anything.

'Huh,' muttered Eric, nodding to a forlorn, tattered ball of hay rolling in the wind. 'Look at that. They actually have tumbleweed here.'

Sheila looked about herself desperately. 'Isn't there anybody here?'

Hank pointed to a building on the other side of a square at the far end of the street. 'That Inn has a faint light in the window and a smoking chimney. Reckon it's our best bet. Come on.'

Diana, who had hitherto been staring silently about herself, put out a hand to stop Hank in his tracks.

'Wait. Everybody, just… just wait.'

The group turned to her.

'What's wrong?'

'Doesn't this place seem familiar to any of you?'

Hank squinted down the street. 'Now that you mention it… But then we've been to so many towns as run-down as this that…'

'No,' Sheila breathed. 'No, Diana's right. I feel like we've been here before.'

'We _have_ been here before,' announced Uni with a quiet, solemn air. 'A lifetime ago now.'

'Why?' Eric asked her. 'What is this place?'

'Don't you realise?' Uni eyed the group, seriously. 'This is Helix.'


	9. Chapter 9

FAMILY REUNION

-x-

Nine

-x-

'Helix…?' Charles echoed. 'What's a Helix?'

'You're looking at it,' Eric replied. 'It's a…' he frowned. 'Well, it _used_ to be a town.'

'We saved it from a hoard of dragons,' Sheila added.

Charles scuffed at a loose cobblestone. 'Bet you're glad you took the trouble to do that.'

'This sort of thing has been happening all over the Realm,' Hank murmured. 'Even rumours of Orcs being spotted nearby can empty a town. Everybody's so afraid.'

'Guess we're lucky that anybody stayed at all,' Diana added as they approached the inhabited Inn.

'We don't know whether they'll help us yet,' Uni warned. 'They'll be very wary of strangers.'

'But we're not strangers,' Eric replied.

The Cavalier didn't wait for any further response from the others, but rapped loudly at the Inn's door.

There was an audible shuffling of furniture from inside, but the door remained unanswered. Eric knocked again.

'Little service…?'

'Go away,' demanded a muffled voice from behind the door.

'_That's_ your welcoming patter?' Eric exclaimed loudly. 'This has gotta be the worst Inn ever! You, my friend, are heading for a pretty lousy review in my "Good Inns Guide".'

There was a brief pause. 'You aren't a reviewer,' replied the voice from behind the door, a little unsure this time.

'Perhaps not,' Eric replied, 'but you recognise my voice, don'tcha?'

There was another pause, and then the Inn door creaked open ever so slightly for the man behind it to peek through at the group. His one visible eye widened in recognition.

'I believe,' added Eric, 'the correct response here is "hooray, the heroes of Helix are back! Do come in, make yourselves comfortable and I'll cook you a nice hot meal"…'

'Er-ic,' chided Diana. She turned to the man at the door. 'All we're asking of you is a little milk for a hungry baby, and then we'll be…' she was cut off by the door slamming in her face. 'Hey!'

'How dare you!' Eric banged on the door again. 'Don't you know who we are?'

'I think he knows exactly who we are,' Hank replied. 'That's the trouble.'

'Go away,' hissed the man again. 'You'll only bring trouble. Leave us alone.'

The baby began to wail again.

'Please,' Sheila begged. 'The baby's only tiny. You don't want her to starve…?'

'Perhaps it would be better if she did,' whispered the man. 'These are hard times.'

'You bastard!' Eric tried shoulder-barging the door with his Shield. 'You don't get to make that decision. It's not your call. You're going to help us. Is that clear?'

'Eric, we can't force him to…'

'Sure we can!' He shoulder barged the door again. This time, the wood buckled slightly under the pressure of the glowing Shield. 'Now, open this door before I break it down…'

'Open the door,' came a calm, female voice from inside the Inn.

'But Rosa…'

'Open the door, Percy' repeated the voice of Rosa, gently. 'They'll only tear it down if we do not.'

'But…'

The voice of Rosa mumbled something quietly to the man. The group, standing back from the door, couldn't make out the woman's words, especially with the baby's intermittent cries. Whatever Rosa had said, however, must have finally persuaded the man, since the door slowly opened again, all the way, this time.

A middle-aged, worried looking man in an apron stood in the doorway.

'Come in,' he muttered.

'Thank you.' Hank led the group inside.

'You have my wife's generosity to thank,' the man added as they filtered past, 'as well as her stubbornness.'

Within was a modestly sized tavern hall, although the bar had evidently not been in proper use for some time, and was now being used to air laundry. There were no customers, but at the far end of the room sat a dark woman in her early 40s, feeding a boy of around six months age a bowl of porridge. She looked around at them with a faint smile.

'So,' she told them. 'You have finally returned. I have been awaiting this for some time.'

Hank shrugged, genially. 'We've been busy.'

'Hmm.' She held out a spoon towards the group. 'If somebody will give my son the rest of his supper, I shall feed the baby now.'

'Sounds fair.' Eric took the spoon from the woman and sat opposite the porridge-stained boy as Rosa got up and gently took the newborn out of a faintly fretful Sheila's hands.

'Mind her head,' Sheila worried.

'I will, Sheila,' Rosa replied warmly as she settled herself down in another chair. The woman loosened her blouse and the baby speedily latched on to her engorged breast. After only a couple of seconds the baby was swallowing greedily.

'How do you know my name?'

'Everybody knows your names,' grumbled Percy.

'So,' enquired Hank, taking a seat, 'what happened here? Why is the town deserted?'

Percy began irritably clattering pots and pans around the stove. 'There's a valley, not far from here. Beastly, barren place - used to be the stomping ground of dragons, but we never feared _them_. They'd never stray close to the town…'

'Yes,' murmured Uni. 'I remember _that_ place only too well.'

'Only then,' Percy continued, 'you came, and the dragons left. And we were overjoyed, for a while. We were able to use the valley as a shortcut for our trade routes, but then the Orcs started coming. Orcs and all sorts of strange things. Dragons of fire. Hoards of the filthy undead…' he noted Charles. 'Present company excepted…'

'Eh,' Charles shrugged. 'That's OK. Personal hygiene isn't exactly top of your average Zombie's agenda.'

'People were afraid,' Percy continued. 'It seemed as though an entire army of evil was gathering on our doorsteps. They fled, and can you blame them?'

'And you?' Diana asked.

'My wife is a Soothsayer,' Percy explained. 'Never since I have known her has she been inaccurate. She insisted that she stay; that our help would be needed, and that those of us who remained in Helix would be safe until we were called upon.'

Hank blinked at the woman. 'You stayed on your own all this time, with a little kid of your own and an army at your door, just so that you could feed Bluebell?'

'"Bluebell"…?' snorted Eric.

'Someone with "Darling" for a middle name shouldn't really laugh at the name of a dead lady's baby,' snapped Diana.

Charles grinned. 'She's got you there, son.'

'Dad!'

'It was your mother's idea, not mine,' Charles replied, innocently. 'You should be grateful – she wanted to double barrel your surname, but I put my foot down.'

'We didn't just stay for the child,' Rosa told Hank. 'I knew that you too would need food and shelter…'

Sheila started with a sudden realisation. 'I know how I recognise you,' she exclaimed. 'You're the fortune teller.'

Rosa just smiled.

'You had a tent,' Diana added, as her memory also was jogged. 'You wanted to read mine and Sheila's future, but you refused any payment…'

Rosa moved the baby onto her shoulder and rubbed the newborn's back. 'We shall pack tonight, and leave at sunrise – I have to ensure my family's safety. I hope you understand. I have stored milk in the ice room. There should be enough for several days. You are welcome to stay after we are gone, of course, but please…'

'You have a reputation for leaving ruined buildings in your wake,' interjected Percy, gruffly. 'This is our home and our livelihood, and we'd like something other than rubble to return to.'

'In our defence,' replied Diana, 'we usually only ever blow up fortresses of evil.'

The conversation was interrupted by Bluebell's loud, satisfied burp.

Rosa patted the baby's bottom. 'She needs a change.'

As though automatically, Percy grabbed one of around two dozen flannel squares that were airing around the bar and tossed it to his wife, who caught the material one-handed. Rosa got to her feet and walked over to a work surface, lying the newborn down on a wadded sheet and spreading out the flannel next to her.

'Any of you know how to fold one of these?' she called to the newcomers.

Diana walked over to join her. 'Suppose I might as well learn this stuff now. You gonna watch too, Eric?'

Eric turned from the high chair, both hands plastered in porridge. The child he had been feeding screamed as the spoon was taken momentarily out of his reach. 'I'll watch the next one. This kid's like a bottomless pit.' He turned back to the small boy, and the cries of protest quickly turned into happy slurping and the smacking of gums.

Charles realised that he was slumping, Zombie-like, against a wall. He straightened himself out, creakily. He still felt strangely numb – insubstantial, almost. Although he wasn't thirsty as such, he wondered whether some water might help. There was a pitcher of drinking water on a table near to where Rosa and Diana were changing the baby. He hauled himself over to it, with a little difficulty. He couldn't help but overhear Diana's conversation with the Soothsayer as he approached.

'Nuttiest thing,' Diana told her, sotto voce, 'remember how you told me you saw great riches in my future?'

'I do.'

'And here I am,' Diana replied with a small laugh, 'dating a multi-millionaire.'

Charles shrank back a little and deliberately pretended not to be listening as the women continued to converse, seemingly confident that they couldn't be heard.

'I'm not gonna see a cent of it, though,' Diana added, 'am I? 'Cause to do that, I've got to make it home. And that's not gonna happen for me, is it, Rosa?'

'The riches I spoke of were not material,' replied Rosa, softly.

'I understand,' Diana told her. 'And you were right. I _am_ rich. I'm the richest man in Bedford Falls.'

'Where?'

Diana smiled. 'Never mind. You saw what I could never see coming in a million years – you saw that I would find peace, and happiness, and an open heart, and that of all the men in all the worlds that could bring me those things, it would be Eric Friggin' Montgomery.' She paused, and then held up the baby; a fresh diaper pinned snugly around the newborn's rear. 'How's that?'

'Perfect,' Rosa congratulated.

'Hey,' grinned Eric from his spot at the highchair, 'that's surprisingly good. You didn't stick the kid with a pin or wrap the diaper round her head or anything. Carry on like that and you'll end up not sucking at motherhood at all.'

Diana smiled sweetly. 'You've got porridge on your ear.'

'Yeah,' Eric replied to the room in general, 'it's a new look I'm trying out. D'ya like it?'

The tot he'd been feeding gurgled happily and flung a fistful of porridge at him, hitting his other ear, causing his friends to burst into fits of giggles. Eric narrowed his eyes at the child. 'Nobody asked you, kid.'

Charles gave a deep sigh. He barely felt Sheila put a gentle hand on his rickety shoulder.

'You OK, Mr Montgomery? You look like…' the redhead trailed off, nervously.

'Like death,' completed the Unicorn.

Charles sighed again, and began a weary lollop towards the back door. 'Need to get some air. Fancy joining your old man for a stroll, Eric?'

'Um…'

The baby Eric was with burped contentedly and laughed.

'Yeah,' shrugged Eric, getting to his feet, 'looks like I'm done with the Porridge Monster here.'

They walked outside into the back yard of the Inn in silence. Charles waited until the door was shut on the others before slumping heavily against a water butt.

Eric folded his arms and regarded his father seriously. 'Dad, you look exhausted. What's all this about?'

Charles blinked, slowly. 'You remember the day your mother left, Eric?'

'Yep,' Eric replied, flatly. 'It's not one of those things that a kid forgets too easily.' He paused, recalling the night. 'Boy, you were so mad…'

Charles shook his head. 'I wasn't mad, son…'

Eric cocked an eyebrow at his father.

'Well, OK. Maybe I _was_ pretty ticked off,' Charles admitted, 'can you blame me, really? But the main feeling I had that night wasn't anger. It was fear. I was on my own, with this kid that I didn't even really know that well, and I was supposed to raise him… I'd tell you that I was never so afraid as I was when Celia left, only one day, a few years after, that kid went to the park with his friends and didn't come back. And as the night drew on and we still couldn't find any of you kids – well, that was when I understood true terror. The thoughts, the images that went through my mind… and I'll admit to you now, Eric, I'm afraid I turned to ol' Jack Daniels to send those thoughts away.'

'Oh, Dad,' sighed Eric.

'Hey,' retorted Charles, 'I saw the remains of my liquor cabinet and the empty bottles on your bedroom floor. Don't you tell me you don't have the same coping mechanism as your old man.'

'Used to,' Eric admitted, 'until I realised how stupid and selfish it was.'

Charles cast his gaze away. 'When the call came through the next day – the terror of hearing the Cop introduce himself… the relief hearing that you'd been found alive, and then that sickening "however"… hearing that my only child was in hospital, burned and disfigured…' Charles swallowed thickly. 'Eric, I was so drunk it took me three hours and twice as many coffees just to make it to visit you. I never explained to you why I was so late, but there it is. I was trashed. I'm so sorry.'

'Why are you telling me this?'

'That's what people do when they're on their last legs, isn't it? Confess their sins?'

Eric snorted a faint laugh. 'I'm not a Priest, Dad.'

Charles just smiled, faintly. 'Eric, kid, lemme tell you something. When I was alive, I was an _incredible_ C.E.O. Seriously, I don't know I did it. It's like I was smothered in magic money pheromones and cash would just throw itself at me screaming "take us, take us all, we're yours".'

Eric blinked. 'And this is a humble confessional how, exactly?'

'I'm telling you this,' Charles continued, so that you won't think it false modesty when I tell you that I know I was terrible, simply terrible, at being a parent.'

Eric didn't reply.

'Even before Celia left, I was no good,' Charles continued, 'but when it was just you and me… that's when I really retreated. You needed be to be both father and mother to you, and I didn't have a clue how to be either. So instead I just ended up treating you the way me and Celia had treated one another – denying you affection and support, and making up for it with cheques and trinkets. I was deaf to all of your cries for my attention, and when you were getting into trouble more and more at school, I told myself that it was because those other kids were just jealous of all the nice things you had. I never stopped to take a good look at quite what I was turning you into – this lazy, materialistic, unsympathetic, horrible amalgamation of the worst aspects of your mother and I. And then, one day everything changed. The boy went away and in his place was this young man that I barely recognised. He was thoughtful, well mannered and compassionate. He had principles. And even full of morphine for the scar on his back, he could do more for himself and think more for himself than he ever had before. And, I'm ashamed to say it… I resented him. I wanted the spoiled, whiny brat back for a long, long time, because at least I knew where I stood with the brat. I knew that I could carry on distracting him with baubles and get away with being a lazy parent, but not anymore. But the main reason I resented you when you came back, Eric…? It was because wherever it was you'd been, and whatever it was you'd gone through, you'd come back with a family. And I wasn't part of that family. And I was jealous. So what did I do…? I stepped even further away from you. I made out that your new friends were bad influences, even though I knew they were the best influence on you I'd ever seen. I made you think that whenever you did anything that wasn't what I would have done under the same circumstances it was a disappointment to me. You're not a disappointment, Eric. You never were.'

'Sure I was,' Eric replied, quietly. 'Perhaps you weren't the best father in the world, but I wasn't exactly the most wonderful son either, was I?'

'Maybe not,' sighed Charles. 'But you _are_ gonna be a wonderful father.'

Eric smiled a little. 'You think so?'

'I know so,' Charles replied, peacefully. 'You got what it takes. I never had that. I never had what it takes to be a wonderful husband either, but I reckon you've got that too…'

'Dad,' Eric folded his arms. 'If you're trying to pressurise me and Diana into a shotgun wedding…'

'I'm just telling it how I see it,' Charles placated. 'You make each other really happy, don't you? I mean, genuinely happy. Me and Celia were only ever really happy as a couple for the benefit of other people.'

'Yeah,' grinned Eric to himself, 'she makes me happy. She's pretty awesome.'

'She's a class act,' Charles agreed, 'and she's crazy about you. I'd keep a hold of that one if I were you.'

'I intend to.'

Charles sighed again. As he did so, he began to feel a pleasant sinking sensation, as though he was gently descending into the softest of beds.

'And you're a warrior now…'

'A Cavalier,' corrected the Cavalier.

'There's something big on the horizon,' added Charles, 'isn't there? Are you worried about it at all?'

'Of course. But we fight evil. That's what we do. So whatever's coming, we'll fight that too.'

'Atta boy,' smiled Charles, dreamily. 'My son the warrior. I had a feeling you'd never be a businessman.'

'Well, of course not,' Eric grinned. 'I was majoring in English Lit.'

'You'll make a fine warrior,' Charles muttered as the soft, sinking feeling began to envelop him, 'a fine warrior.'

'Dad…?' Eric asked, troubled. 'You're… you're sinking.' He took a step towards his father. 'What is that, quicksand? Grab my hand, I'll pull you out.'

'Not quicksand,' mumbled Charles. 'Remember what Arthur said, about finding peace?'

'Uh-huh.'

'And that man… Ramhoud… his story about the king.'

'Sure, but…' Eric extended his arm to his father. 'Dad, it's up to your waist!'

'You don't need me,' smiled Charles, beatifically. 'You're fine – just fine without me. I see that now. And I can find peace with that fact.' He blinked slowly as the ground crept over his chest. 'The earth reclaims the dead. Dust to dust.'

'Oh,' breathed Eric. He stopped, and brushed a couple of tears from his eyes. 'Dad?'

'Mmm?'

'I'm glad you came back. I'm glad I had chance to prove to you I'm not just some spoiled jerk-off.'

'I'm glad I had chance to tell you the truth,' smiled Charles. Just before the ground enveloped his shoulders, he pulled one arm above the surface and extended it so that his son could shake his hand. 'And to apologise.'

'I'm sorry too,' Eric replied, 'I'm sorry for all those bad times.'

'We did have some good times too though,' Charles added, 'didn't we?'

'Yeah,' smiled Eric, wistfully. 'We had some fun.'

The ground was at Charles' lips. If he had anything else to say, he had to say it now. 'I love you, Son.'

The ground crept over his mouth and nose, but he still had eyes to see the tears running freely now down his son's face, and ears to hear Eric declare 'I love you too, Dad.'

Charles' arm was still outstretched, even as his face sank under the soil, so Eric got to his knees and grabbed the hand with both of his. He allowed the tug of nature to pull the hand down, down into the ground but didn't let go until that hand too slipped beneath the soil. Charles' once elegant and manicured fingers sank gradually into the dirt until, finally there was nothing left – no mark whatsoever.

Eric sat back, a little surprised that he wasn't still crying. Perhaps he'd done all of his grieving already. He felt peace now instead – peace and closure. He got up and walked back into the Inn.

The others were sitting around a table at the back of the hall when he walked in, tucking into a lunch of cold meat and vegetables. The two babies had been put down for a nap together in a large crib in the corner. Uni was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear a telltale munching sound issuing from the scullery. Eric sat down next to Diana as she happily munched on her first proper meal in days.

'_Somebody's_ feeling better,' he noted, as cheerfully as he could.

'Ginger ale and fresh, dry toast,' Rosa explained, bringing over two plates of food. 'It always made me feel much better when I was with child.' She paused, setting one plate in front of Eric. 'I didn't know whether the deceased gentleman would want food, but I prepared some for him anyway…'

'Where _is_ your dad, Eric?' Sheila asked.

Eric shook his head down at his plate. 'He broke the spell. He's gone. Again.'

Diana patted his shoulder. 'I'm sorry, sweetie.'

'Don't be.' He smiled sadly at the table in general. 'It's OK.'

'He was a good man,' Hank added.

'I know he was.' Eric began picking at his food. 'I know he was.'

They ate in silence for a moment. Suddenly, the peace was shattered by an almighty bang on the door. Before any of the group could so much as mutter 'what the…?' the locked door was ripped from its hinges and two masked intruders burst in, crossbows loaded and raised. Eric saw Hank gingerly reach for his Bow. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the two women take his lead and slowly grasp their weapons. His own Shield was by his ankle. He tried to get his foot beneath it as nonchalantly as he could.

One of the intruders – an obscenely large, green-grey tinged, knuckle-dragging brute of a thing, took a small card from his belt and squinted at it.

'Everyone be cool,' he read slowly, 'dis is a robbery.'

Eric frowned at the others. It wasn't just the line that sounded familiar, the voice rung a bell as well.

The huge brute passed the card over to his companion – a short, grubby, stocky female.

'Any of you fucking pricks move,' she read, 'and I'll execute every mother…' she turned the card over, '…fucking last one of you.'

Hank rose to his feet, his Bow slack at his side. 'Guys? What the Hell?'

The intruders stared at Hank, then at each other, then at Hank again. As one, they lowered their weapons and pulled off their masks. Pistol the shy young Ogre and his scrappy human "sister" Nym hadn't changed one bit.

'Afternoon, Hank,' breezed Nym. 'Thought we might run into you again. You're looking well. Besides the face, of course. What happened there, eh?'

'Are these friends of yours?' grumbled Percy as he moved over to placate the disturbed babies in their cot.

'Sort of,' Sheila muttered, darkly.

'Sorry,' Pistol added. 'Wouldn't've held you at bowpoint if we knew they were with you.'

'Who gave you the flashcards?' asked Diana.

'We're _not_ with them,' Percy protested.

'Who gave you the flashcards?' Diana repeated a little louder.

Nym grinned. 'Funny story, that…'

A tall, muscular, masked young man stormed in through the broken door. 'Guys,' he barked in a very familiar voice, 'what the _Hell_? What did I tell you about being careful with the doors, Pistol? They'd have probably opened it if you'd just knocked.'

'I _did_ just knock,' Pistol protested.

'Well, knock _carefully_ next time,' continued the masked man, seemingly not noticing the others, 'we're gonna have to fix that now. _And_ you read the wrong card, and why have you taken off your mask? Do you _want_ us to get caught?'

Pistol's face split into a slow, warm smile. 'Well, we're amongst friends now, in't we?'

Slowly, the masked man peered around Pistol to see the group at the table. His eyes widened.

'No way.'

Eric cocked an eyebrow. 'Fraid so, kiddo.'

'Um.' The man took off his mask, wiping his eyes. 'Hi guys.'

Uni's head peered around the pantry door. 'Bobby…?' gasped the Unicorn.

Bobby sniffed again as his sister barrelled into him for a hug. 'Hey Uni.'

He paused, still squeezing Sheila tight.

'Wait a minute…' he blinked at Uni. 'WHAT DID YOU SAY?!?'

-x-

To be concluded in 'Endgame'.


End file.
